


Missing Time

by HaMandCheezIts



Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Boardmaker, Cerebral Palsy, College Years, Complete, Concussion syndrome anyone?, Einstein's a good boy, F/M, Family Man Emmett, Gen, Gold Rush, Gotta have the feels, Head Injury, Hey I figured out how to link easily (was doing it the hard way before), Loose ends should now be tied up, Marty hits his head a lot, Mayer-Johnson, Mild Injury, Non-Verbal, Pinheads, Post-Canon, Slavery, Time Train, missing child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaMandCheezIts/pseuds/HaMandCheezIts
Summary: When the Parker family experiences a loss, Jennifer Parker and Marty McFly go to Doctor Emmett Brown to see if time travel can help prevent a tragedy.Marty looked down at the driveway, kicking an errant pebble with the toe of his sneaker. “Jennifer, Doc’s only been back a month. He’s been really busy with moving everything from the garage, and getting Clara and the boys used to living in the present, and this is kinda a heavy favor. You know how he is with using time travel for personal reas – “Jennifer was unable to keep the tears from spilling over. “Marty, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important! My cousin's son is only seven years old! And he’s in a wheelchair, for Christ’s sake!”Marty was first startled by Jennifer’s tears. But when his girlfriend cursed – a rare event indeed – he came to an immediate decision.Contemporary methods had been used to try and solve this problem, with no success. Time travel might be the best, and last, hope of finding out what had happened to Benji.
Relationships: Einstein the Dog & Marty McFly, Emmett "Doc" Brown & Einstein the Dog, Emmett "Doc" Brown & Marty McFly, Emmett "Doc" Brown & Marty McFly & Jennifer Parker, Marty McFly & Original Character(s), Marty McFly/Jennifer Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I should try a story with a little time travel in it, as I haven't really attempted to craft one of my own (I usually only do scene fillers around canon-established time travel). Just a warning: I don't plan to have terrible alternate universes or other misfortunes occur. At least not in this story.
> 
> I was considering naming this "Lost in Time," but I'm fairly sure that's a common BTTF fic name.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own _Back to the Future,_ Doctor Emmett L. Brown (or any of the Brown family members), Marty McFly (or any of the McFly family members), Jennifer Parker, Biff Tannen, or any other related characters. I have created several original characters for this story. 
> 
> I am writing for fun and feedback, _not_ for profit.
> 
> -ck

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**2:36 P.M.**

**Hill Valley, California**

“Can’t outrun my future,  
Can’t escape my past,  
Endless memories in my mind, so overcast.  
Echoes of a lightning strike.

"Hell can rearrange,  
History can change.  
Staring at myself, reflected on the stage,  
Waiting for a kiss to save my life.

"Making up for lost time,  
Waking up, in a world that’s not mine,  
Making up, making up – “

A discordant note from the bass guitar caused Marty to wince, and he broke off in the middle of the chorus, shooting an exasperated look at Paul. “Sorry, man,” his friend – and last founding member of The Pinheads – apologized. “Been a while.”

Marty, Paul, and The Pinheads’ newest members (drummer Will and keyboard player Shawn) were in Will’s garage, using an unusually free afternoon to get in some much needed practice. The coordinated free time was rare – the four were seldom home at the same time, now that three of the four were in some form of post high-school education, and Marty and Shawn had jobs. But the fates had conspired to give all of the college-age band members spring break at the same time as Will, still in his senior year of high school. In addition, Shawn had the day off from the music store at Lone Pine Mall, and Marty actually had the whole week off – his job as a deejay at Hill Valley University (where he was a student, having transferred there after two years at HVCC), wasn’t required during spring break, when most of the students and faculty were not on campus. It was also a job that Shawn ribbed him about occasionally – the role of deejay was basically unpaid; Marty got valuable experience and a discount on his tuition, but he never received a paycheck, as Shawn did bi-weekly. The keyboard player didn’t get a check worth bragging about, as he had to work around his tech school schedule, but he made more money than Marty, especially considering the money that Marty earned was nil.

Marty lifted his guitar strap over his head, removing the instrument and propping it up against the amp. “It’s okay, Paul, my voice is a little off, too.” He could feel an ache in his throat. When they played the song they’d been rehearsing (an original Marty had penned in early ’86), Marty usually tried for a slightly hoarse tone, in an attempt to emulate Huey Lewis or Bruce Springsteen. But it wasn’t his normal singing voice, and if he sang that way for too long it took its toll.

Paul nodded, then looked at Will and Shawn with a grin. “And I told you, you guys can call him on that. Pete and Isaac never had a problem letting him know when he needed to take a break and stop being such a diva.” 

Marty’s exasperation had now become irritation. “Screw you, Paul!”

The bass player just laughed, and after Will and Shawn joined him, Marty gave in, lifting his hands up in surrender as he began to laugh as well.

Paul’s comment about Pete and Isaac had been mainly good-natured. The four main members of The Pinheads had started as bandmates, but had grown to be good friends. They’d known each other well enough to recognize their respective strengths and deficiencies, and they’d all been generally responsive to constructive criticism. In fact, if logistics – and life – hadn’t been an issue, Pete and Isaac would still be in the band. But Pete had gotten accepted to USC and had moved to L.A. the August after graduation. Isaac had lasted a little longer, but then in spring of 1988, his girlfriend Sherri had announced she was pregnant. Isaac had dropped out of college to take a full-time job, and had also dropped out of the band. He was now married, and while Sherri’s pregnancy had been difficult, the two young parents had welcomed a healthy baby girl on Christmas Eve. Marty was often thrown by the fact that his former band mate had become a father before he’d been able to drink legally.

“Anybody need a snack?” Will moved to the refrigerator in his garage. The Pinheads routinely rehearsed at Will’s place for two reasons: it was easier, as the guitars and keyboard were more portable than drums; and, Will’s parents were loaded. There were two garages on the property – one for cars, and one built basically for Will’s musical use. The walls had sound-proofing, there was a bathroom, and the refrigerator was in a small kitchenette. The building made Marty wistful for Doc’s old converted garage, now vacant and soon to be demolished.

The four bandmates were all standing around the fridge, staring inside at the choices of healthy foods (carrots, apples, cheese, water) and junk foods (brownies, snack cakes, donuts, soda), debating on whether they wanted to be sensible or irresponsible, when there was a knock at the side door. It opened partially, and Will’s mother poked her head in. “Hi, boys. How goes band practice?”

Will sighed expressively. “Mo-om! Can’t you use the intercom?” He gestured to a small white speaker on the wall near the currently silent instruments. “I thought that was the whole reason you installed it, so you _wouldn’t_ have to come out here.” He spoke the last three words with gritted teeth and a noticeable glare.

The woman didn’t seem upset in the least by her son’s attitude. “I thought it would be easier to come out here, in case you couldn’t hear the intercom while you were playing.” She peered at the other young men, and her eyes sought out the lead guitar player. “Marty, there’s a young woman here to see you.”

Marty automatically glanced down at his watch. He had a dinner date with Jennifer after rehearsal, but he still had a good two hours before he needed to leave, go home to change, and pick her up. But before Marty had fully grasped the time, mentally checked his schedule, and looked back up, he saw Jennifer was pushing past Will’s mother. “Marty, I have to talk to you,” she said urgently.

Excusing himself with a half shrug, half nod, Marty left his curious band mates and walked over to the doorway. “What’s up?”

Jennifer gave a brisk jerk of her head, indicating that they should speak outside. After thanking Will’s mother and waiting for the woman to head back into the house, Jennifer took Marty’s arm and pulled him down the driveway, to where the visitors’ cars were parked. Once she was sure no one was close enough to overhear the discussion, the frazzled young woman burst out her news.

“My cousin’s son is missing.”

Marty blinked, shaking his head quickly. “Huh? Who?”

“My cousin’s son! Benji! You know, the one in the wheelchair!”

“Oh. Wait, what do you mean, missing?”

“Just that! He was in the backyard, playing with his sister, and when my cousin went out to call them in for lunch, he was gone. Just – disappeared. He’s been missing for two hours!”

“How – how could that happen?” Marty still couldn’t get his head around Jennifer’s report. He’d only met Benji once, a few months back, when Jennifer had babysat so her cousin and her husband could go to a Christmas party. Marty had tagged along, mainly to spend time with his girlfriend. Benji’s younger sister, Noel, had taken a shine to the young man, so he’d spent most of the evening entertaining the girl, but he had interacted briefly with Benji. The boy _was_ in a wheelchair, and Marty remembered him getting around pretty damn well in it for a six-year-old. Although according to Jennifer the boy had first gotten the chair when he was four, so by the time Marty had witnessed Benji’s prowess, the kid had already had two years’ practice maneuvering the machine.

Jennifer threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know! Nobody knows! It doesn’t make sense! We’ve been looking all over the neighborhood, other neighbors have been helping, they called the cops – “ Jennifer’s voice broke, and Marty was dismayed to see tears in her eyes (and also felt a little guilty that had hadn’t earlier noticed her distress). “My cousin called our house – my dad’s at work, but my mom and I came over right away, and we’ve been helping look. My mom’s still there. I wasn’t going to bother you, I thought we’d find him by now, but he’s still missing, and so I thought. . . “

Marty was rubbing Jennifer’s shoulders consolingly, trying to calm his girlfriend. “Thought what?”

Jennifer blinked a few times, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I thought maybe Doc Brown could help.”

Marty’s hands stopped in mid shoulder-rub. “Uh, Doc?” He looked back and forth, also now making sure they were alone, that no one from the garage had come out to check on them. “What exactly are you asking, Jenn?”

Jennifer let out a short, impatient huff. “What do you think? I know what time my cousin last saw Benji, before she went into the house to start lunch. It was twelve thirty. She came back outside maybe ten minutes later and he was gone. If we could see what happened, we’d know where to search for him!”

Marty looked down at the driveway, kicking an errant pebble with the toe of his sneaker. “Jennifer, Doc’s only been back a month. He’s been really busy with moving everything from the garage, and getting Clara and the boys used to living in the present, and this is kinda a heavy favor. You know how he is with using time travel for personal reas – “

Jennifer was unable to keep the tears from spilling over. “Marty, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important! He’s only seven years old! And he’s in a wheelchair, for Christ’s sake!”

Marty was first startled by Jennifer’s tears (and confused by Benji’s age – _Must’ve had a birthday since I last saw him_ ). But when his girlfriend cursed – a rare event indeed – Marty came to an immediate decision.

Contemporary methods had been used to try and solve this problem, with no success. Time travel might be the best, and last, hope of finding out what had happened to Benji.

After asking Will if he could leave his truck (as well as his guitar and new amp) behind, Marty and Jennifer headed for her compact Chevrolet, Marty motioning Jennifer toward the passenger side of the vehicle. “I’ll drive.”

Jennifer stood next to the door, her hand resting on the handle, looking over the hood at her boyfriend. “Why don’t we drive over separately? We came in two different cars.”

“Well, if we’re going to use Doc’s time train, I could be back here in a half hour.” He shrugged. “Or something like that. I don’t need to grab my stuff. Anyway, you’re too shook up to drive right now.”

Jennifer tossed her hair, her eyes flashing. “I drove here, didn’t I?”

Marty smiled patiently, ignoring the comment. He held a hand out. “Keys.”

“Oh. Ah. . . “ Jennifer dug into her pockets, then bent down, looking in the window at the steering column. Marty followed her gaze, and saw the keys still hanging from the ignition. Shaking his head with a sigh (and resisting the urge to say “I told you so”) he opened the car door and climbed inside, then waited for Jennifer to do the same. “We’re lucky you didn’t lock it,” he said.

“If I had, we could have just taken your truck,” Jennifer pointed out, although the fire had left her voice. “I can’t believe I left the keys in the ignition,” she said, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

Marty started up the Cavalier, then reached over and squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Jennifer. Doc will help us. We’ll figure this out.”

* * *

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**3:10 P.M.**

It took less than twenty minutes to drive from Will’s house to Doc’s new secluded residence, but both Marty and Jennifer frequently checked the clock in Jennifer’s car, and Marty rolled through more than one stop sign (and gunned through a yellow light a millisecond before it changed to red). When they pulled up in the driveway of the partially remodeled farmhouse, Marty sighed with relief as he saw Doc’s new car, a 1988 Plymouth Reliant. The sedan was so un-Doc, so _regular_ , that it always made the young man smile to himself. It was a car he could see Jennifer’s father driving – definitely not a vehicle for a time travelling scientist. The Plymouth was sitting on the side of the barn, nearest the road; the car was typically parked next to the barn instead of in front of it, as there were over a hundred feet of train tracks embedded into the ground at the entrance to the barn. 

Jennifer had exited her car before Marty could shut off the engine, and by the time he had the keys in hand and had shut his door (as well as Jennifer’s, which she had left ajar), the young woman was rushing up to the house. Marty jogged up behind her just as she reached the door. “Doctor Brown?” Jennifer pushed at the doorbell, but no sound was heard.

“I don’t know if he’s got that connected yet.” Marty pounded on the door. “Doc?” he called out. “Hey, Doc, are you in there?” Marty turned to look at the barn/lab, where the time train was stored. “Maybe he’s out there.”

The two were ready to leave the doorstep and head toward the barn when the door suddenly opened. Emmett Brown stood in the entryway, wearing painter’s overalls splattered with light blue paint and holding a dripping paintbrush. He stared at his young friend for a moment before breaking into a wide smile. “Marty! And Jennifer! How are you?”

Marty gestured at the paintbrush. “You’re dripping, Doc.”

“Oh!” Placing a hand underneath the paintbrush, Doc backed into the house. “Come in, come in,” he said, “but keep an eye out – there’s wet paint all over.” He waved the hand with the paintbrush, inadvertently tossing a few drops of paint through the air.

The visitors followed their host into the kitchen. Marty gazed around, taking in the newspapers spread on the floor and the ladder near the wall, along with several paint cans and other brushes and supplies. A small oscillating fan was resting on a counter, and a large box fan was on the floor, located in between the kitchen and the living room. “Why don’t you have any windows open?” Jennifer asked, wrinkling her nose at the strong scent of fresh paint.

Doc made a dismissive gesture. “They don’t all have screens yet, and I’m worried insects would fly in, to be imbedded in the wet paint. The fans are doing a satisfactory job of alleviating the odor and drying the painted surfaces – they’re just a tad noisy. That’s why I didn’t answer the door straightaway – I didn’t know you were there until Marty shouted.”

“Are you doing all of this by yourself?” Marty wondered. “Where are the boys?”

Doc snorted, setting his wet paintbrush in an aluminum tray. “Verne is really too young to assist, and even Jules was more hindrance than help. I had to ban both from the house. I dropped the boys and Clara off at the mall earlier, and they’re spending the afternoon there; they were going to have lunch, do some shopping, and see a movie – the three of them have become quite obsessed with the ‘moving pictures,’ as Clara likes to refer to them. And I’ve been getting much more accomplished with just me and Einie here.” Doc tipped his head at the kitchen table, which was covered with a drop cloth. Peering underneath the table, Marty could see Doc’s faithful sheepdog was peacefully sleeping.

Doc had adopted Einstein from a shelter in 1982, when the sheepdog was still a puppy, and although he'd lived in both the present and the past, the dog was technically nearing only his seventh birthday. Yet, either because of a genetic predisposition or as a result of being exposed to one too many experiments, Einstein had begun to lose his hearing. His nose was as good as ever, and he often could alert his owners when new or unknown people came to visit, but as the dog hadn’t seemed to notice him and Jennifer, Marty wondered if the overbearing paint smell was to blame. The young man stomped his feet to create a purposeful vibration, then knelt down and knocked on the floor for good measure.

Emmett had only had Einstein for about a month before Marty had met the scientist, at least in the Twin Pines Mall memories that Marty still retained (although he could also somehow recall already being friends with Doc when the older man had adopted the puppy). Either way, the sheepdog regarded Marty as a family member as much as he did Jules and Verne. Awakened by the vibrations, Einstein lifted his head; once seeing Marty, the dog fairly jumped up and plowed into the young man. As Marty had been on his knees, he fell backwards, and soon had a fluffy mass on his chest and a wet tongue in his face. “Einie, stop,” Marty laughed, but the dog, either not hearing the request or ignoring it, continued the loving assault.

“Marty, we don’t have time for this,” Jennifer pleaded.

Doc looked sidelong at the young woman, then whistled shrilly. Einstein, still able to hear his master’s whistle, sat back at attention, and Marty clambered to his feet. He sent his girlfriend a crooked smile. “Sorry, Jenn.”

The young man looked next at Emmett. “Doc, Jennifer’s got a family emergency, and we need to ask you a favor. Can we sit down and talk?” He again regarded the chaotic kitchen. “Or go somewhere a little less . . . wet?”

“Tell me about your cousin’s son.”

The trio had retired to the living room. It had been painted a few hours earlier, and while the walls were now fairly dry, the furniture was still moved into the middle of the room, and partially covered with plastic and drop cloths. Even so, Jennifer had sunk down on the couch, weary in mind and body. Emmett and Marty had remained standing, the former leaning against the door frame, and the latter staying near his girlfriend.

Jennifer inhaled, let out a deep sigh, and sniffed shakily. Marty reached out to grip her shoulder, massaging it gently.

“He just turned seven a few weeks ago.” She peered up at Marty. “Remember, Marty? I went home that weekend, for the birthday party?” 

Marty shrugged. “Uh, yeah.” He remembered she had gone home one weekend, while he’d stayed at the university. Marty had lived at home when he’d attended Hill Valley Community College, but now that he was at HVU, he wanted the full college experience, which meant living in the dorms. The university was close enough that he could come home on weekends if he wished, and he often did, usually on the same weekends that Jennifer chose to come home. But as he’d wanted to buckle down in his classes before the spring holiday, Marty had stayed and studied the last few weekends before break.

Jennifer bypassed Marty’s weak reply, looking again at Doc. “He has cerebral palsy; that’s why he’s in a wheelchair. And he’s non-verbal, but it’s not because he’s dumb – he just can’t make the fine motor movements for speech. He’s actually really smart. He can read, and that’s pretty much how he communicates. . . He knows a little sign language, but the fine motor thing gets in the way of that, too – so he uses this book. It’s set up with letters and words and pictures, and he points to what he wants to say.” 

“A book?” Emmett repeated, frowning thoughtfully.

Marty chimed in. “It’s more of a binder.” He looked to Jennifer for confirmation. She nodded, then explained further. “A three-ring binder, with pages in plastic inserts. So they can be replaced or rearranged. When there’s something special going on, like football season or Christmas, his parents put in a specific page for that.”

Doc was nodding, but he seemed somewhat preoccupied. “I would think an electronic device would be more suitable,” he muttered, “something with a multitude of choices, and maybe a computerized ‘voice’ that could speak for him – “

“Doc!” Marty was ready to clap his hands or snap his fingers, but the sharp call of the man’s nickname was enough to bring the scientist back to the matter at hand. “Sorry,” Emmett said, shaking his head with a small smile. “Go on, Jennifer.”

“I don’t really know what more you need, Doctor Brown. But it just doesn’t make sense, him disappearing like this. I don’t think anyone would have abducted him, it would be kind of hard to load his wheelchair into a van unless they had a lift or a ramp – that thing is heavy! And if you don’t know how to adjust it, it’s really hard to get into a vehicle. You have to set the brakes and turn off the battery. . . I think he just wandered off! But there’s a small river near their house. . . “ She trailed off, dissolving into tears. Marty dropped down on the covered couch, putting an arm around his distraught girlfriend.

“He was last seen at 12:30?”

Jennifer nodded through her tears. “In the backyard, playing with his younger sister Noel. Ten minutes later he was gone. Noel didn’t notice anything, but she was in the playhouse and hadn’t really been paying attention.”

“And where does your cousin live?”

“On Old Main Street. 317 Old Main. It’s actually the corner of Old Main and Birch.”

“The tree streets, you know, Doc?” Marty added. “Willow, Oak, Ash, that neighborhood.”

“I know it.” Doc had begun to pace, his head down and a hand stroking his chin. “Twenty minute walk, fifteen minutes to get there. . .” He lifted a paint-speckled arm to look at one of his ubiquitous wristwatches. “I dropped Clara and the boys off at 11:40, meaning the car would be back and parked near the barn by noon, and I went directly into the house to start on the living room. . .“ He stopped suddenly, and whirled to face Marty. “It would be close, very close. But I think we can get to Jennifer’s cousin’s house before 12:30.”

Marty and Jennifer exchanged looks, one hopeful and one perplexed. Marty turned his puzzled face to Doc. “I don’t get it Doc. Why would it be so close? You have a time machine, we could be there whenever we wanted, couldn’t we?”

“There are several other variables to consider. I can’t land the time train near Old Main; the closest train tracks run through a residential area, and I’m concerned that the train would be witnessed, either arriving or departing. Keeping the train in a levitating mode would have the same problem – it’s the main reason why I typically choose to time travel when it’s dark, so the time vehicle is less likely to be noticed, especially since the sonic booms also attract attention." He looked intensely thoughtful for a moment. "I've been researching the possibility of disguising the train, maybe by using holographic images or something similar; that would greatly reduce the risk of detection." He sighed wistfully, then shook his head. "That is a matter for the future. Right now it is necessary that we be discrete. So the only choice is to take the train to the past, at the specific time that I was away from the house, dropping Clara and the boys off at the mall. We’ll need to conceal the time vehicle on the back property, walk back to the house, secure my sedan, and then drive over to Old Main Street. Of course, we won’t be able to take the car until at least five after twelve – after I’ve returned from Lone Pine Mall and we’re sure that I’m in the house, busy painting. And we’d have to be sure to return in the car by 3:00 p.m., to make sure it is parked where it is now when you and Jennifer arrive at ten after three.”

Marty tried to keep up, but he had a feeling Doc was going to have to repeat several points of the plan while it was in progress. “Why would we have to conceal the train?” he questioned. “Can’t you just park it in the barn?”

“Not in the past. If we take the time train back to 11:35 a.m., the train will already be in the barn, because it had not yet left.”

Marty rubbed at the back of his neck, pursing his lips together tightly. Emmett smiled, understanding the grimace. “I can explain more later, Marty, but I don’t believe now is the right time to delve into the specifics of temporal mechanics.” He addressed Jennifer. “Before we do anything, I need you to call your cousin, and see if she has any news or information. It would be quite foolish to go through all of this if your cousin’s son has already been found.”

Doc showed Jennifer to the phone, which was hidden under a pile of newspapers and paint samples. Marty edged up by Doc as they waited, and he looked up at his mentor. “Doc, I really appreciate this. I didn’t know if you would think this situation warranted time travel, but Jennifer’s really scared, and Benji’s just a kid. In a wheelchair, no less.”

Emmett huffed softly. “Please, Marty. This boy is roughly Verne's age. Just thinking of how I might react if Verne – or Jules – was missing, how _Clara_ might react. . . No, this is a prime justification for time travel.” As the two watched Jennifer hang up the phone, her head shaking sadly, Doc continued, “I just hope we can help.” 

* * *

“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you!” Jennifer was standing inside the barn next to Marty, watching while Doc ran back and forth, checking the interior and the exterior of the unusally adapted train, Einstein at his heels. “It’s my cousin’s son, and I know where she lives, and what Benji looks like – “

“Jenn, I’ve been there before, remember?” Marty reminded her. “And for what Benji looks like – he’ll be the kid in the wheelchair. I think Doc and I will figure it out.”

Jennifer sent a sour look at her boyfriend. She opened her mouth to let loose another reason for her to accompany them, but Doc’s voice overrode it. “Jennifer, if you come, it’s possible you would view your past double, who will be arriving at your cousin’s house to help search for her son. After what happened in 2015, with you fainting upon seeing your older counterpart, I’m worried that you would experience a similar reaction. Marty and I are far more practiced with avoiding our doubles, and we have a good deal more time travel experience than you do.”

“I still don’t think – “

Doc had been leaning out of the cab of the time train; he now stepped down the fold-out stairs so he could stand in front of the young woman. “And this may be something out of our control,” he said quietly. “If we are unsuccessful, if we can’t find out what happened to Benji, or if what we _do_ find cannot be corrected, would you be able to respect that, whatever the results may be? If it were necessary, could you stand by and do nothing?”

Jennifer didn’t answer right away; her shoulders slumped, and her normally bright eyes dimmed. “I guess not,” she finally murmured. “But are you – are you saying you might not be able to fix it?”

Emmett reached out to place his hands on Jennifer’s shoulders. “We will do our best. But as much as I wish it were, time travel is not an exact science. It is possible we will be unsuccessful. The train could malfunction. Marty or I could make an unforeseeable error, or simply not arrive in time to see what occurred.”

Jennifer lifted her hands to grip Doc’s. “You _have_ to fix it. You have to find him.”

Marty stepped forward to stand alongside Doc. He was alarmed by the dead look in Jennifer’s eyes, the taut way she was holding herself, and the utter desperation in her voice. It prompted an actual ache in his chest, something he recognized as pure empathy. It was an emotion he’d only felt a few times in his life; when his mother’s father had died, when Isaac thought his girlfriend ( _wife_ ) might lose the baby, and when Doc had been marooned in 1885. Marty didn’t care for the ache, and he knew of only one way to currently reduce it.

“Jennifer.” Marty was rubbing his chest unconsciously, but dropped his hand when his girlfriend turned to him. “We’ll fix it,” he said decisively. “I promise.”

When Jennifer threw her arms around his neck, Marty pressed her tight against him, and the pain in his chest lessened remarkably. And even though he could see Doc’s narrowed eyes and grim mouth over Jennifer’s head, Marty did his best to ignore the man’s glare.

Before Marty and Doc entered the time train, Emmett asked Jennifer to keep an eye on Einstein for him. “We should only be gone a few minutes, in your perspective, but just in case there are unexpected problems, I don’t want Einie with us. Also, considering we will have to conceal the train and walk a distance back to the house, it would be better if we didn’t have to ask that of him.” Doc leaned down and ruffled Einstein's fur, giving the dog a sorrowful look. “Take him out near your car, Jennifer – that should be far enough away so you are both safe during the train’s departure from the barn.” Doc waited to see that Jennifer indicated she understood, and then the scientist stepped into the train.

After giving Jennifer another hug and a quick kiss, Marty followed his mentor. As soon as Emmett had closed the entrance and begun the process of starting and warming up the train, he turned to his young friend.

“Marty, that was completely inappropriate, to promise something to Jennifer that might not be possible.”

It wasn’t as easy to ignore Doc’s reprimand as it had been to ignore his expression, but Marty gave it a good shot. There was plenty of ammunition – he’d only seen the time train a few times, and he’d never actually traveled in it, so when Doc spoke, Marty was able to temporarily avoid answering.

“You built all of this with nineteenth century materials?” he asked, looking around wonderingly. “It looks like a lot of the interior already existed, and you just took out any unnecessary equipment to put in the time travel components, right? How much of those old components did you replace when you went to the future to get the train hover-converted?”

“Marty – “

“And the flux capacitor is on the _outside?_ That’s wild!”

“Marty, stop!”

Marty turned away from the distracting interior, and faced his friend. “No, you stop.” He crossed his arms, fixing his stance and trying to not let Doc’s height intimidate him. “What was it you said, when we had to go back to 1955 and get the almanac back from Biff? 'We must succeed.' Well, we have to succeed this time, too. Maybe if we couldn’t find out what happened to Benji, it wouldn’t cause the timeline to unravel, but it would unravel Jennifer’s family. And that’s going to be _my_ future family, since we know she and I are gonna get married.“ He swallowed, taking a step back. “Maybe you were okay with telling Jenn that fixing everything with Benji was a crapshoot. But I wasn’t.”

The two men studied each other silently for a few moments, until the train’s whistle blew, startling them both. Emmett turned back to the controls. “Everything is warmed up. I’m setting the destination time for earlier today, at 11:35 a.m. At that time I should be away from the house, on my way to Lone Pine Mall with my family, and no one will see the train arriving. And hopefully my distant neighbors will disregard the sonic booms.” He gestured to a Victorian era bench seat, near the back of the compartment. “You should sit down, Marty.

Marty backed up to take a seat on the bench, and he watched in amazement as Doc pulled the train out onto the tracks that jutted out from the double doors of the barn. Once the train had completely exited the doors, Doc flipped the lever that extended the wings and engaged the hover capabilities. Then, as the train rose into the air, Doc steered it around to fly over his house, toward the back of the property, and accelerated the time machine to eighty-eight miles per hour.

****

**_TO BE CONTINUED_ **


	2. Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmett Brown and Marty McFly arrive in the near past, and begin their attempt to help Jennifer Parker's cousin's son. The two men also have the Doc and Marty feels, as they try to navigate their relationship now that Doc has a wife and kids and hasn't been a regular presence in Marty's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a discussion between Doc and Marty about slavery in California and the Gold Rush. Some of the things that Marty brings up probably weren't common knowledge in 1989, so they might not have been part of a college history course, but I'm just gonna suspend that reality. Who knows, maybe Marty had a really good history professor who was well-versed in that area.

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**11:35 A.M.**

The sonic booms were still echoing in Marty’s ears when he was assaulted by another set, announcing the train’s arrival in the past. He momentarily clapped his hands over his ears, wondering if the noise was so loud because it was connected to the train, as opposed to a small sports car, or if he was just that out of practice when it came to time travel.

Doc, busy with piloting the train, was unaware of Marty’s distress. “I see a suitable clearing,” he called back to his young friend. “I’ll have us down in a matter of minutes.”

Marty peered out the closest window, but saw nothing unusual nor familiar. “Hold on!” Doc said next. “I’ll try my best to land carefully, but it might be a bit bumpy.”

It was indeed a bumpier landing than it had been with the DeLorean, but Marty’s white-knuckle hold on the armrest of the bench hadn’t been necessary. He released his double-handed grip with an embarrassed expression that Doc observed about as much as he’d noticed Marty’s previous problem with the sonic booms. With a short sigh, Marty rose to stand behind Doc, and watched as the scientist checked the controls and displays at the front of the train.

“We’re exactly where and when we should be. It is currently 11:36 a.m. – oops, 11:37, now – this morning.” The older man began to reset the watch on his right wrist. “I’ve landed the train in the property behind my house. It was a tight fit, and I may have bruised a few trees, but I don’t believe the train will be bothered in the amount of time it will be located here.” Emmett pulled the lever that opened the door and extended the stairs, then finally looked back at Marty. “We need to hurry, Marty. We’re on a tight schedule."

Marty stepped down the stairs after Doc, stumbling a little on legs that felt rubbery. Doc finally recognized the student’s behavior, and his eyebrows lifted marginally. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Marty gazed around at the sky, noticing that it was a fair bit cloudier than it had been right before they’d left the present. Marty recalled that when he’d driven over to Will’s earlier, the streets had still held wet patches, the result of an isolated rainstorm that had passed over around noon. _Or maybe it was earlier than noon,_ he thought, viewing the damp grass. Turning his eyes back to Doc, he saw the older man was still watching him suspiciously. “I’m fine, Doc,” Marty reassured him. “I just haven’t traveled through time in a while. And never in the train.” He waved at the time machine in question. The elegant black behemoth was still steaming and cooling in the narrow clearing, the elaborate gadgets and attachments spinning and grinding to an eventual stop. The college student gazed at the complex train, squinting slightly at the obvious "ELB" stylized on its side and front.

Doc watched his friend study the time machine, meanwhile turning Marty's statement over in his head. To Emmett, a short jaunt of a few hours into the past was barely worth mentioning, considering the several era-spanning trips he had made to times before and within his natural timeline. Starting with his first trip in the early morning of October 26th, 1985, he'd gone to 2015, back to 1985 (picking up Marty and Jennifer), again to 2015, to 1985A (which had been rife with disturbing alterations), to 1955, and finally to 1885. The late 1800s had remained his home until he'd completed the time train, and after an appropriate amount of experimentation with the new time vehicle, he'd taken it 120 years into the future to get it modernized and hover-converted. Then he'd made a second trip to (the correct) 1985, to retrieve Einstein and have his brief yet profound meeting with Marty. He'd returned with his family to the past, although their stay had been temporary, mainly to prepare for their ultimate departure; now that he'd had the means to safely return to the present (or a "later" present that better explained his previously unseen wife and children), Emmett and his family had finally traveled to 1989.

Yet Marty's last experience with time travel had been his return home from the Old West, when the now-college student had still been in high school. It was understandable that he would be more affected by this negligible jump of four hours. “No, I guess you haven't time traveled in quite a while," Emmett remarked. "It’s been . . . four years?”

“Not since October 27, 1985. You know, when I came back from 1885.” Marty peered up at Doc. “That’s closer to three and a half years. I’d have thought you’d know it down to the day and the time.”

Emmett looked slightly chagrined. “I’ll admit I’m a little less quick on the draw in that regard. It’s either because I hadn’t seen you in so long, or because more time has passed for me than it has for you. Or it could be that I’m more oriented to how time relates to Clara and the boys, now that they’re the main facet in my life.”

Marty wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. All three of the possible reasons had him feeling mildly sad and definitely jealous. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing faintly. “It’s okay, Doc. No problem.”

For a moment Doc looked like he might continue the conversation, but then he glanced down at his adjusted wristwatch. “Damn. We need to go.” Turning back to the train, he grasped a recessed part on the second to the last step, raising the stairway. He barely needed to lift it before the top of the entryway automatically came down and the stairs folded up, allowing the entrance to close flush into the side of the train. Marty watched carefully, wondering how Doc would open the entrance again when it was time to leave. As if he had heard Marty's unspoken thoughts, Emmett smiled, pointing at an area under the train, near where the stairs had disappeared. “There is a hidden release just underneath here - you can locate it by touch if you reach just so.” His smile faltered. “I know I gave you a tour of the train when we arrived to stay in the present; hadn’t you noticed that before?”

“Ah, I guess not.” During said tour, Marty had been engrossed with the precocious Brown offspring and the doc’s out-of-time wife (who still occasionally called him “Clint”), so he’d had a hard time focusing on the overwhelming particulars of the astounding time train. Instead of explaining, he changed the subject. “So what’s the plan, Doc?”

Doc began walking through the wooded area. “We need to get back to my house, and take the car over to Jennifer’s cousin’s neighborhood. You know where that is, you said?”

The shorter man jogged a little to catch up to Emmett’s long strides. Marty’s foot found a dip or hole in the ground and his leg twisted; a pain lanced through his knee, but he soldiered on. “Yeah, I know where it is. I thought you said you did, too?”

“I know of the neighborhood, and I’m sure I could find 317 Old Main, but your assistance and knowledge will be valuable. What did Jennifer say her cousin’s name was? Stephanie?”

“No, Stacy. Stacy Boyd. She’s Jennifer’s uncle’s daughter. Her and Jenn are pretty close. I’ve met her a few times, but I’ve only met Benji the once, back in December.”

Doc nodded thoughtfully. He began striding faster, and was soon a good several feet ahead of Marty. The younger man quickened his step again, wincing as his knee protested. “Doc, slow down, willya?”

“We need to get to my house in – “ Doc checked his reset timepiece “ – fourteen minutes, so we can get my car and drive over to Stacy’s house. If we don’t dawdle we’ll be fine.”

“I still don’t get why we had to park the train so far away, Doc,” Marty griped, as he followed the scientist down a rudimentary path through the trees. “And what is all of this back here? Do you own this?”

“Not exactly.” Doc glanced back at his struggling friend. “This is a nature preserve, or at least it is at the moment. There’s some debate in the Hill Valley Council over who might own this land in the future, and for what use. Of course, I would rather it remain the way it is, so that my family and I can retain the privacy my experiments and inventions necessitate. And as I informed you earlier, Marty, this is the best place to store the time vehicle, so that my past self will not come across it.”

Marty sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, bothered that he had forgotten the understandable reason for their wilderness trek. Then another question occurred to him. “What about other people? Don’t you think someone else might come across the train?”

Emmett immediately shook his head, but his response was more reluctant. “About the only people that come out this way are the occasional hiker or birdwatcher. And that’s mainly on the weekends. As it’s a Wednesday, I don’t think we have to concern ourselves with that.”

“Well, yeah, it’s Wednesday, Doc, but it’s spring break. School’s out. Isn’t that why Jules and Verne are home?”

Doc slowed, waiting for Marty to catch up. When the student was at his side, Emmett sent him a rueful look. “Ah, Clara and I haven’t actually enrolled the boys in school yet. Since the second semester was already in progress when we arrived here in mid-February, we agreed that it would be better to home-school them for the rest of this year. We have plans to enroll them the next school term.”

“Oh.” Marty again felt that touch of sadness, as he realized this was another important part of Doc’s life that he hadn’t been privy to. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yes, we thought so.” Doc began to speed up again. “So it’s spring break for the local schools? I thought it was just for the university right now.”

“It is, I don’t go back until April. The local schools go back on Monday, but yeah, they’re off this week.”

“Mmm. I thought I'd noticed more young people at the mall when I dropped off Clara and the boys.” Emmett looked around the wooded area, suddenly more alert. “Well, hopefully the earlier rain will keep any hikers away from the area. It can get quite slick out here when the grass – “

Emmett’s words were cut off by a thump and a soft cry of pain. He turned quickly to see that Marty had literally fallen victim to the slick grass, and was face down on the ground. Trying to hide a smile, Emmett reached out a hand, helping his disheveled friend to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Marty spat out a few pieces of grass. “How much further to your place, Doc?”

By the time the Brown house and barn were in sight, Marty was limping, wet, and grumpy. “Are we good?” he asked his friend when they reached the break in the trees. “Is your past self in the house?”

Doc looked at his wristwatch, peered at the house for a moment, then nodded decisively. “Yes, it’s safe. I should have started painting by now.”

“Thank God,” Marty sighed. He put on a burst of speed, ignoring the ache in his knee, and made for the clearing.

Doc held out a hand. “Slowly, Marty. Head for the far side of the barn, where you saw I had parked my car.”

Marty nodded, changing his direction. Then he suddenly stopped, turning to Emmett with a look of unease. “Do you have your car keys, Doc?”

The older man patted the pockets of his overalls, then smiled triumphantly. “Right here,” he said, lifting the keychain.

“Well, there’s that, at least.” As the two approached the car, the student cast an eye in the direction of the house. “I know your past self can’t see us now because the barn’s in the way, but won’t he hear the car’s engine?”

Doc smirked. “Unlikely. With no windows open and the fans going, I didn’t hear your vehicle arrive, and barely heard you knocking at my door. We shouldn't be noticed – as long as my counterpart doesn’t glance out the window at the exact moment the car goes down the driveway.”

Marty blanched. “Is that a possibility?”

Emmett unlocked the car, climbing inside, and then unlocked the passenger door for Marty. “I’d say there’s a five percent possibility. When I first started painting, I did the far wall in the living room, so I would have my back to the windows. Plus the living room windows don’t directly face the driveway.”

“But you can see the driveway from the living room.”

Emmett buckled his seat belt. “Yes. Although I was more interested in painting than gawking out the windows, as I wanted to get as much accomplished as possible before I would need to pick up my family from the mall.” Doc started the ignition. “Marty, don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Marty mumbled. He twisted around in his seat, fixing his gaze on the nearby farmhouse.

“Fasten your seat belt, please.”

“I can’t watch the house behind us if I have my belt on,” Marty said. “Just go, Doc.”

Emmett made a sound that was a cross between a huff and an exasperated sigh. Marty glanced at his friend, and seeing the scientist’s irritation, the younger man huffed right back. “I’ll put my seat belt on once we’re on the road. Chill, okay?”

Facing forward silently, Doc eased his Plymouth down the driveway and turned onto the road that crossed in front of his property. As Past Doc did not come charging out of the house after them, Marty figured that Emmett’s fractionally younger counterpart had not heard the car or seen it leaving. Satisfied, he faced front and reached for his seat belt, then buckled it securely.

“Thank you,” Doc said flatly.

Marty shook his head, giving another huff. “You know, Doc, you don’t have to treat me like a kid. I’m going to be 21 in a few months, and I’ve gotten along fine the last three and half years without you.”

Emmett didn’t respond directly, instead concentrating on his driving. “I didn’t mean to suggest you haven’t done well in my absence,” he finally said. “I thought about you often after that brief meeting on the train tracks in 1985. I wondered how you were doing, and what I might find when I finally returned to the present to stay. I was very pleased when you told me that you were a student at HVU, and that you and Jennifer were in a healthy relationship.”

“What did you think was going to happen to me?” Marty asked, his voice taking on a petulant tone. “Did you think I’d just fall apart because you weren’t around?”

“No. . . I did think you might miss me.”

“Well, of course I missed you!” Doc pulled up at a stop sign, and Marty took the opportunity to make eye contact with the scientist. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, and it killed me!“

Emmett smiled faintly. “That seems to be somewhat contrary to your earlier statement. I thought you had ‘gotten along fine’.” He pulled the car into traffic again.

Marty sighed. “Yeah, well.” He looked out at the scenery for a moment, then turned back to his friend. “But I am older. You don’t have to treat me like Jules or Verne, or even how you treated me back in ’85. I’m not the kid you remember.”

Doc lifted a hand, see-sawing it. “Not the kid, no. But the same person, the same good friend I’ve always known you to be. And I don’t mean to treat you as a kid, but you will always be someone whom I regard as an individual I need to watch over, or take care of. Either because of our age difference or our previous relationship, or maybe because of both of those things.” When Marty didn’t reply, Emmett continued. “Your parents must feel that way about you, as well – no matter how grown up you are, you will always be their child.”

Marty scoffed softly. “Their _baby,_ ” he muttered.

“Well, that would not be my viewpoint,” Doc said. “For me, you would be my oldest.”

The earlier jealously that Marty had been feeling was replaced with a surge of warmth, a combination of gratitude and pleasure. He found himself grinning, and when Doc looked his way and saw the expression, the scientist’s mouth turned up in a wide smile.

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**12:24 P.M.**

“That’s the one, Doc. The yellow house with the dormer windows, the one on the corner.”

Emmett peered at the house that Marty indicated, then drove well past it, continuing down the street. “Doc – Doc, what are you doing?” Marty asked in bewilderment.

“It wouldn’t be good for us to be parked right outside the house. If anyone notices an unfamiliar car parked nearby, they might think it was somehow involved in Benjamin’s disappearance. Also, I don’t know how long we’ll be here, and I don’t want Jennifer to arrive, and possibly see and recognize my vehicle.” Doc pulled his car into a U-turn, and parked it facing the Boyd house, which was now several blocks away.

“Oh.” Marty blew out a breath. “But how are we going to see what happens to Benji if we’re way down here?”

Doc turned off the car’s ignition. “With binoculars.”

“I don’t know, Doc,” Marty said hesitantly. “If you thought we’d look out of place parked by Benji’s house, how will it look if someone sees us casing out the place with binoculars?”

“Well, they’re only binoculars in the technical sense,” Doc answered. “If you check the glove compartment, you’ll find a small case with the words _Bino-Specs_ written on it.”

Doing as directed, Marty opened the compartment, locating the case tucked between a map and the car’s owner’s manual. He lifted the lid on the case, seeing what appeared to be two pairs of sunglasses, only with clear lenses. “These, Doc?”

“Yes, thank you.” Setting the case on the dashboard, Doc removed one pair. The scientist lifted the glasses up, fiddling with what appeared to be a side shield on the right side temple, near the hinge. He held the specs in front of his face briefly, then nodded. “Excellent.” He handed the glasses to Marty. “Here. I’ve set these for you. Look in the direction of the Boyd house.”

Marty watched warily as Doc took the second set of glasses, to perch them upon his nose. With a shrug, Marty put on the glasses that Doc had handed him – and immediately found that he could see Benji’s house as clear as if they were parked right in front of the building. “Wow!” he said, impressed, then turned to Doc. “You think of every– _Shit!_ ”

As well as the glasses had worked to see the distant house, they weren’t that good for magnifying items that were nearby. Or rather, they were too good. Marty's hands flew up to his face as Doc, the steering wheel, and the other random parts of the car’s interior swelled in his vision. He whipped off the glasses, squinting intensely. “That hurt!”

Emmett retrieved the glasses from where they had landed in Marty’s lap. “I apologize. I should have given you a tutorial.” He waited until Marty pried open his eyes. “This button on the side increases or decreases the lens magnification, or power. You start on the lowest power, then raise it exponentially until you reach the magnification you desire. It’s similar to a phoropter.”

“A pho-what?”

“A phoropter. It’s a machine an eye doctor uses in an exam to determine the strength of your eyesight. The device with the many lenses — the optometrist switches them back and forth to see which choice is better?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Marty reached for the glasses. He watched again as Doc demonstrated the magnification adjustment, and looking closer at the control, Marty could now see a plus and a minus sign, much like a zoom on a video camera. “Hey, Doc, are these from the future?”

Doc was staring ahead, at Benji’s house. “Yes. Don’t ask me to tell you what year.”

“Uh – okay.” Making sure the magnification was at the lowest setting, Marty put the specs back on, then gradually began to increase the power. “You just happened to have these in your car?”

“They keep the boys entertained on longer car trips. They rarely bickered when we traveled while we were in 1885, but as soon as we started our life in the present, if we spend any significant time in a vehicle, the two fight like dogs.”

Marty grinned to himself, recalling similar car trips with his siblings. “They’re turning into regular eighties kids, Doc.”

The older man made an amused noise. Both men were silent for a few moments, as they watched for any type of activity at the Boyd house. “I think I recognize that house,” Doc said quietly.

“What, from 1885? I thought their house was newer than that.”

“No, not Jennifer’s cousin’s house. The neighbor across the street.”

“Oh, that belongs to the Wilsons, or the Winters, or something like that. I think Jenn said they’re out of town with their kids for break – I just know they weren’t around to help search for Benji. So you know that house?”

“Yes. Do you see the smaller house in the front of the property, closer to the street? That was formerly a servant’s quarters.”

“That little thing?” Marty studied the old building, which seemed to have an ill-fitting front door. “The one that looks like a shed?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Doc grunted softly. “It probably is used as a shed now, as it’s too small to be a garage, and is in a state of disrepair. But look at the building, Marty; when was the last time you saw a shed with so many windows, and built in such a fashion? If memory serves, the people that lived in the house behind it used it as the residence of their housekeeper or kitchen maid. Although I think it was originally built as a slave cottage.”

“A slave cottage?” Marty took off his Bino-Specs, and looked in astonishment at Doc. “I don’t remember seeing any slaves when I was in 1885, but I was there less than a week. . ."

“No, there were very few slaves in Hill Valley during the late 1800s. California entered the Union as a free state in 1850, and ownership of slaves was officially banned, although there were ‘exception’ laws. I believe any slaves that had resided in town were transplants, arriving almost forty years previous to my time in the past. They would have accompanied their owners, who traveled to the area before Hill Valley was even incorp– “

“Yeah, I remember that!” Marty interrupted. “The Gold Rush! Hundreds of thousands of people came to California from all these different states and countries, to try and make it rich during the mid-1800s. People who owned slaves brought them with, and actually had them panning or mining for gold with them, which pissed off a lot of the locals, especially when California became a free state. I think some people were run off of Hill Valley because they were using slaves to pan in the Yuba River.” When Doc lowered his own specs to look at Marty in surprise, the younger man shrugged. “I took a course in California history last semester. It was actually really interesting.”

Doc’s surprise morphed to a look of pride. “You’ve taken an interest in history.”

Marty shrugged again, this time with a slightly reddened face. “I don’t know. It kind of – It made me feel closer to you, in a way, since I didn’t know if I’d see you again . . . other than in the history books.” The younger man felt his eyes begin to well up, and he hurriedly replaced his Bino-Specs, hoping to hide the emotion that felt very kid-like.

Emmett kept his specs down, reaching out to his friend tentatively. “Marty – “

“Something’s happening, Doc!”

Doc quickly raised his glasses. From their position in the car, they could see a woman walking up to the back door of the Boyd house, which was surrounded by a wooden deck that led to a ramp. A small fair-haired girl of about five ran up to her mother. “That’s Noel,” Marty whispered.

“You don’t need to whisper, Marty, they can’t hear us from this distance,” Doc whispered back, eliciting a grin from the college student.

Noel was gesturing at the backyard area that Doc and Marty couldn’t see, as the Boyds' garage was in the way. Jennifer’s cousin nodded, pointed to her watch, and then called out something to someone else hidden from view by the garage. The woman went into the house, and Noel scampered away, presumably to play in the playhouse.

Emmett lifted his Bino-Specs enough so that he could look down at his adjusted watch. “It’s 12:29 p.m. That must’ve been Stacy going into the house to get lunch together.”

“So whatever happened should happen in the next five minutes or so, because ten minutes from now, when Stacy goes to call the kids in, Benji’s gone.”

The two men didn’t have to wait long – it was no more than two minutes later when a young blond boy in a motorized wheelchair came around the far side of the garage, where the ground was level with the driveway. Marty held his breath as he watched the boy drive his chair down the small driveway in front of the garage, across the thankfully empty street, and up to the servant’s cottage/shed. “What?” the student breathed. “It can’t be . . . He’s not. . . “

But it appeared he was. Using the footrest of the wheelchair, Benji bumped open the unlatched door on the small building, and drove inside. “Of course!” Marty said. “He’s just a curious kid, checking things out. But that’s like the first place they should have searched! Why wouldn’t they look in there?”

“That’s why.” As Doc and Marty continued to watch, the door to the shed suddenly closed. “The door is shut,” Doc continued. “They would have no reason to think he was inside; how would he get in, when the door is shut? From what Jennifer said, he doesn’t possess the fine motor skills necessary to open and close doors.”

“No, he doesn’t. He never would’ve gotten in there if the door was shut tight. But who shut it now? Is there someone else in there?”

Doc chewed on his lower lip. “My theory is that Benjamin knocked the door shut accidentally when he was turning his wheelchair around. And because he is non-verbal and can’t call for help, no one knows he’s in there.”

“Except for us. I can’t believe how easy this is!” Marty took off his Bino-Specs and grinned at Doc. “So what do we do, just go open the door so he can get out, or tell Stacy we saw him go in, or what?”

“Neither.” Emmett took off his glasses as well. “We can’t get him out, Marty. Not yet. If he’s not missing long enough for Jennifer to find out, and come to get you, so that you both then come to me, we wouldn’t even be here right now. In other words, if Benjamin doesn’t remain missing, there would be no reason for us to travel into the past and determine what had happened.”

“What the hell?” Marty slammed his specs down on the seat in anger. “You’re gonna make that kid sit in that little house-shed thing for hours, scared and alone, just so there’s not some damn paradox?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. But he won’t be alone. You’ll be with him.”

“I'll be what?”

Doc checked his watch. “There’s no time to waste. You need to go and stay with him in the shed, and keep him company, until I return to the present and let Jennifer know what has happened. Once I’m back in the present, Jennifer and I will return here and ‘find’ Benjamin.”

“And what time will that be?” Marty looked down at his watch. “What time is it now?”

“It’s 12:35 p.m. Set your watch, and then you need to hurry. I think if you track around the back of the shed, you won’t be seen by Jennifer’s cousin, as she’s still in the house, and obviously didn’t see her son go into the shed. You’ll need to enter by a window – if you enter in the front door, you could be seen; also, Benjamin’s chair might be in the way.”

“I don’t believe this,” Marty grumbled as he reset his watch. “And you still haven’t told me when you or Jennifer or someone is gonna come rescue Benji.”

“I’ll have to return to the present, which was 3:42 p.m. – I will set the train to arrive at 3:44. Once I return and Jennifer or I drive back here, it will be close to four o’clock . . . most likely a few minutes after the hour.”

As usual, Marty was having a hard time keeping up with Doc's frenetic planning. "How am I supposed to explain to Benji why I can't let anyone find us until four o'clock?"

"You're good at thinking on your feet," Doc said. "I'm sure you'll figure out something."

Marty rolled his eyes at the non-answer. “Three and a half hours,” he muttered, opening the car door. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Doc. Any later and I’ll figure out a way to get him out on my own.”

“Don’t make any rash decisions!” Doc said firmly. “Now hurry! Before Stacy comes back outside!”

Slamming the door, Marty gave Doc a quick thumbs-up, then ran off in the direction of the old servant’s cottage, pushing through the stiffness in his knee. Again he was grateful for the lack of traffic, as he knew it wouldn’t be good if there were any witnesses to his odd behavior. Jogging around the far end the property, Marty scanned the main house, seeing that the windows appeared dark and shuttered. Passing the obviously unoccupied house, the young man came up on the back of the cottage, and surveyed the windows. The first one he tried was stuck tight, but the second one moved at his touch, and he carefully edged it upwards, recalling fondly how he used to do this regularly, when sneaking in and out of his bedroom window.

Once Marty had the window up far enough that he could crawl inside, he hoisted himself up, then lifted one leg and raised it over the edge. Looking into the shed, he could make out several tools, implements, and lawn care items – a weed-eater, a lawnmower, some rakes, a few coal shovels and snow shovels, a bag of wood chips, some decorative lawn bricks – and Benji, in his wheelchair, staring in astonishment at the young man climbing into the window.

“Hey,” Marty said, “I’m – “

But that was as far as he got. Before Marty got his second leg completely over the sill, the window began to lower in its track, and he jerked his remaining leg through so it wouldn’t be trapped by the falling window. Unfortunately, the leg that Marty had most of his weight on was the one with the bad knee, and it finally gave out. Marty tumbled head-first into the shed, smacking his head onto one of the decorative bricks.

 _Perfect_ , was the last thing he thought, and then his senses left him.

**_TO BE CONCLUDED_ **


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty McFly, injured and "stuck" in the shed with Benji Boyd, eventually bonds with the boy. Benji's rescue is imminent - but how will Marty leave the shed without someone noticing (which could possibly screw up the timeline)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This third chapter took me forever to write, even though I had it all pretty much in my head. I had to sort out some details. . . Anyway, there are still one or two loose ends (Marty's truck and guitar are still at Will's house, for one; Doc presumably leaves Jennifer and Marty stranded at the end of the chapter, for another). These are rectified in the epilogue.
> 
>  **NOTE:** Danny Parker, Jr. is in this chapter (Jennifer's father, and son of Danny Parker, Jennifer's grandfather). It was a little annoying to me to refer to Jennifer's dad as "Danny Parker, Jr." every time I wrote his name, so there is no "Jr." attached (although it is implied). Which brings up a related thought: even though Jennifer's grandfather and father were actually named in **Back to the Future: The Game** and weren't exactly featured in the movies (Jennifer's unnamed father is on screen for a matter of seconds in the first movie, and her grandfather is never seen or referenced), maybe the fact that Jennifer's family had named a son after a father is why Marty named his son Marty Junior. I always got the impression that it had been Marty's idea, but maybe Jennifer (or her family) had encouraged the name choice - or at least, didn't _discourage_ it.

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**??:?? P.M.**

When Marty came to himself some unknown time later, the first thing he was aware of was pain – a biting ache in his head, and a dull throb in his knee. Cracking his eyes open, he saw that he was laying on an old wooden floor, which was grimy with dirt and desiccated leaves. Unsure of where he was or what had happened – and not really caring at the moment – he remained still and quiet. And that’s how he heard distant voices, calling out in urgent tones. In fact, one very familiar voice was calling out.

“Benji? _Benjamin!_ Where _are_ you?!”

“Jennifer?” Marty mumbled. He placed his hands on a nearby pile of landscaping bricks, pushing himself into a sitting position. Raising his voice, he repeated, “Jenni-“

Before he could complete the yell, everything came back in a blinding rush, so fast it made his already aching head pulse with agony. He lifted his hands to cradle his head, and one hand brushed the tender lump on his forehead, above his right eyebrow. His aborted yell became a pathetic moan.

Almost in tandem with his moan, a soft whimpering started, off to his left.

Slowly lowering his hands, Marty cautiously turned his head. The shed was dim but not dark, as the many windows provided enough light to see clearly. And what Marty saw on his left was Benjamin Boyd. Tow-headed, dressed in a colorful sweatshirt, dark sweatpants, and bulky tennis shoes, the boy sat in a motorized wheelchair that was located not far from the front door of the cottage/shed. The seven-year-old was fighting it, but he looked perilously close to crying.

“Oh, jeez. . . “ Marty crept nearer, having to egde along the wall to get past the lawnmower. The crawling made the pain in his knee flare up, but he really didn’t trust himself to rise just yet. “Benji. Hey, kiddo. Uh – do you know who I am?” As soon as he’d asked the question, Marty mentally kicked himself. _The kid can’t talk, what is he supposed to say?_

But a few moments after Marty had made the inquiry, Benji’s head dipped in a slow nod. “Okay, yeah, I guess you can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, can’t you?” Marty tried to smile reassuringly, even though he felt so crappy that just that small expression made his head hurt. “So you remember me, from that time I came over to help your cousin watch you?” Benji’s fair face wrinkled into a frown. “Well, I guess she’s your mom’s cousin. But then she’d be your second cousin. Anyway, that’s my girlfriend. Jennifer. Jennifer Parker? She’s the cousin I meant.” _Why am I rambling?_

Benji nodded again, and then one of his hands, clenched involuntarily in a fist, jerked toward the door. It was not a specific sign, and of course no words were used, but Marty knew instantly what the boy was trying to say. ‘ _Get me out of here.’_

Marty sighed regretfully. _Not until at least four, buddy – however long that is._ He lifted his wrist to look at his watch, but he couldn’t quite bring the numbers into focus. Blinking a few times only made his eyes water and his head ache more, so he lowered his wrist with another sigh that was more like a groan. He sat again on his rear and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

An indefinite amount of time passed – Marty wasn’t sure if he’d passed out or dozed off, but a repetitive noise finally brought him around again, although it was with the normal resistance he usually gave his bedside alarm. This was not a beeping, though; it was a kind of whining grunt, persistent and annoying. Marty jerked his head up and opened his eyes at the same time. “What?” he muttered edgily, before he was even completely conscious.

The grunting gave way to a soft, agonized howl. When Marty’s eyes cleared, he saw that Benji had fat tears rolling down his face, but they almost looked like tears of anger and frustration than tears of fright or sadness.

“Benji, man, c’mon, don’t cry. . . “ Marty lifted a hand to run through his hair (he did his best to avoid brushing the painful bump, but still flinched reflexively). He didn’t know how to talk to this difficult kid, how to calm him down or comfort him. Heck, he’d only ever met him once, and he hadn’t exactly interacted with him then – Jennifer had taken care of Benji, while Marty had spent his time with Noel. The cute one. The easy one.

The normal one.

The final statement popped into Marty’s brain unbidden, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought it then, or even think it now. And even though he was literally stuck in the past, injured, in a hellishly difficult situation, and possibly “allowed” to have unwelcome thoughts, that fact that he perceived Benji as abnormal made Marty’s stomach churn with guilt. He’d never thought of himself as prejudiced, and he didn’t _think_ he had problems dealing with handicapped people, but he hadn’t had much experience or contact with anyone like Benji, not really. He remembered the few kids at high school who were different: A girl with Down Syndrome. A boy who barely talked, and couldn’t sit in a chair without constantly rocking his body and fidgeting. A blind girl who walked with an adapted walker. A boy who was completely deaf, and had a sign language interpreter accompany him everywhere he went.

Marty had rarely seen the disabled kids. Most were taught in a separate room from the typical students, and he’d only crossed paths with them in the hall, or seen them at lunch or in the library – except for the boy who couldn’t hear, who was able to keep up in Marty’s regular classes as long as his interpreter was present (Marty had even learned a bit of sign language by osmosis, although he now only remembered the easiest or most common of words). The “different” kids had often been mocked, but never in the vicinity of the kids themselves, or around their teachers or assistants. And while Marty had never participated in the name-calling or teasing, he’d also never asked anyone to stop.

Jennifer had, Marty remembered now, and his stomach made that uncomfortable twist again. Jennifer had often told the perpetrators to shut up, calling them jerks and shallow and rude and a lot of other uncomplimentary words. Marty had usually backed her up when she did this, but he’d never put a lot of effort into it. He hadn’t really cared one way or the other about how the handicapped kids were treated. And yeah, he’d been younger then . . . but it seemed maybe his apathetic viewpoint had never changed. Maybe that was why he’d spent that night playing with Noel. Not so much because the girl had adored him, but because it meant he didn’t have to spend any awkward moments with Benji. 

While the young man had been soul-searching, Benji’s tears had slowed, and his soft wails had reduced to gasping hiccups. Marty gave a short sigh, relieved to see that the boy seemed to be calming himself, and wouldn’t be needing an insincere platitude. “You okay now?” he asked, hoping desperately for a nodding reply.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. Instead, Benji lifted a stiff arm to his head, bumping his forehead lightly. Marty shook his head, wincing. “What? You have a headache or something?”

Benji closed his eyes briefly and wrinkled his freckled nose (and damn if Marty couldn’t tell what that meant: ‘ _No, **listen**._’) Benji tapped his forehead again, then attempted to point at Marty. The boy couldn’t quite get his fingers to part so that he had a pointer finger, but the direction of the fisted hand was obvious.

Once the implication was realized, Marty blinked his eyes in surprise. “Me? You’re asking about me – my head?”

A slow nod.

 _What do you know?_ Marty smiled faintly. “I’m okay. Well, not great, but you don’t need to worry about me, all right?”

Benji regarded Marty with an unreadable expression, and then he lifted both of his arms up, in a gesture that would look more familiar on a football field. “Touchdown?” Marty murmured.

The boy’s head shook vigorously, and then he made the same sign again, with his arms up in the air. Marty stared at the seven-year-old in confusion for a few moments, and then his eyes widened. “Oh! I remember now! That’s your sign for your book!” Benji nodded. “Do you even have your book?”

The boy jerked his head near the back of his wheelchair. If Marty craned his head, he could just see a large backpack hung from the rear of the chair. He rose, intending to move to the back of Benji’s chair, but a sudden attack of dizziness forced him to sit again. A harsh buzzing sound overwhelmed him, and Marty dropped his head down, fearing he might puke. “Sh-ugar,” he groaned, changing the curse to an innocuous word as he remembered his current company.

When the worst of the dizziness and nausea had passed, Marty resumed his earlier errand, but again settled for crawling over on his knees. The young man patted one of the boy’s legs in an attempt to reassure the kid, and then crept around the chair, absentmindedly pushing a bunched up canvas tarp out of his path. Once at the rear of the chair, Marty peered into the backpack. The bag, attached to the back of the chair, was cavernous and relatively full. There was a capped bottle of water with a pull-up top, a container of hand wipes, a small box of tissues, a half-full carton of mini cookies, a box of weird-shaped crayons, a wrinkled and creased coloring book, and the boy’s communication binder.

Marty pulled out the binder/book, then moved back in front of Benji. He could picture how the youngster had used the book before – either it sat on a table in front of the boy, or Jennifer had attached a tray to the wheelchair, and the book had sat on that. Since neither of those possibilities was an option, Marty knelt in front of Benji (hissing softly as his bad knee twinged), and then held out the book, using his hands as the “table.” “Okay,” he said, opening the binder to the first page, “talk to me.”

Benji’s hand shot out, and even though the boy’s hand stayed clenched in a fist, he was fairly adept at shuffling through the plastic-sleeved sheets, once Marty realized he needed to keep a secure grasp on the book. After flipping a few pages, Benji stopped on a page that had a group of cartoon-like faces with expressions on them. The page was in a grid format, and looked like it was a copy of a page from a spiral-bound book. Under each animated face was a caption, such as Excited, Happy, Sad, Lonely, Silly, and Embarrassed. Benji directed his hand to the drawing for ‘Sick,’ which was a simple drawing of a person with a thermometer in its mouth. Benji then lifted his fist to “point” at Marty.

Marty smiled again, somewhat charmed by the boy’s attention to his physical health. _Well, maybe he’s just ticked because the guy he thought was gonna 'rescue' him ended up being a clumsy jerk who can’t even stand up straight._ “Really, Benji, I’ll be all right. What about you? Are you okay?”

Benji nodded, but then moved his hand to another picture: one of a wistful face with a thought bubble that contained a glass of water. Underneath the picture it said ‘Thirsty.’

“Oh. Yeah. Um, I saw a bottle of water in your backpack. You want that?”

Another nod. Marty placed the book on the floor, then headed back to the backpack. Digging out the water bottle, he suddenly realized he wasn’t sure how to give the kid a drink. When he’d seen Jennifer give Benji something to drink, she’d used a weird type of special plastic cup with one deep edge cut out. Marty rummaged in the backpack again, but didn’t find any type of adaptive cup. _If he doesn’t have the fine motor skills to talk, how can he drink from this bottle?_

Returning to the front of the chair, Marty examined the water bottle, and pictured how he himself would drink from it. _I’d tip it up into my mouth, then suck the water in kind of like with a straw, but if he can’t do that. . . Maybe I can just sorta squirt it in his mouth._

Eager to attempt his theory, Marty leaned up on his knees to be closer to Benji. He moved forward to rest his elbows on the armrests of the wheelchair . . . and accidentally jarred the joystick that controlled the chair. The motorized chair moved back a foot, bumping into a shelf that held bottles of bug spray, weed killer, and other varied chemicals. Staring up in horror at the rocking bottles and imagining them falling on Benji’s head, Marty failed to notice his own precarious balance, now that his forward support had been withdrawn. Marty was briefly able to stay upright on his knees, but the pain finally caused him to give up the ghost and he fell forward, bumping his head on the footrest of Benji’s chair. Dropping the water bottle on the floor, Marty clapped his hand against his forehead. This time the curse came out before he could stop it or adapt it.

“Shit! _Owww!"_

From the boy in the wheelchair in front of him, there was a definite giggling.

Marty looked up at the sound, mystified. He didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d cursed, or because he’d looked like a goof, but at least the boy hadn’t been scared by his second accidental fall. He also realized that the amused kid had apparently been clueless of the danger behind him, but thankfully none of the bottles on the shelf had overturned. _Thank God,_ Marty thought, _I don't think I could handle us both being hurt._ He slowly got his knees under him again, retrieved the water bottle from where it had fallen (it luckily still had the top on it), and gave the giggling boy a mock glare.

“You want a drink, you’d better stop laughing at me,” Marty said, but there was no real threat to his words, and Benji knew it. The boy ceased his laughter, but not his grin, and Marty unaccountably found himself smiling back.

Marty uncapped the water bottle, then pulled up the top. He attempted to lean up against the chair again, this time very cognizant of where the power controls were located. Next, Marty angled the top of the bottle into the corner of Benji’s mouth, and then squeezed the container gently. The boy easily swallowed the liquid, and Marty grinned, thrilled that he had figured this out.

Benji pulled his head back a little, indicating he was done. When Marty drew the bottle away, Benji bumped his hand against Marty’s wrist, in the area of his watch. “What? What time is it?” Marty squinted at the timepiece, relieved to see that he could now make out the digital display. “It’s a little after two.” _How long was I out after I hit my head?_ he wondered, then, _Well, how long was I out **both** times?_ Sighing in self-disgust, he looked apologetically at the seven-year-old. “And we’re gonna be stuck here for another two hours.”

Benji made the motion of pointing at his book. Marty picked it up again, and the boy found the pages he was looking for. This pair of pages were also set up in a grid fashion, although these looked as if they had been hand-drawn; the two pages combined held the 26 alphabet letters, as well as some punctuation and the words ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ Benji viewed the page pn the right side, and plopped a hand down on the letter “Y.”

“Y?” Marty said aloud, then “Oh, _why!_ Uh – well, because, uh – ” the college student stuttered, trying to stall. _Why did I say how long we'd be here? What do I say now? Sure, Doc, I think on my feet fine when I haven’t gotten knocked on the head or woken up in a strange place. Case in point: 'Clint Eastwood.’_

_Well, he is just a little kid. Maybe I don’t have to come up with anything really believable. **Or** , maybe I could just tell him the truth. _

_Kinda._

“Okay, it’s like this . . .” Marty lifted one hand off the book, gesturing awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m sort of hiding out. There’s someone who wants me to do something, and I’m not sure if I can do it. So I sneaked in here, and I didn’t mean to scare you or anything, but now I’m stuck. I have to stay in here for a couple hours, and I can’t let anyone know where I am, which means I can’t let anyone know where you are until then, either. But you’ll be all right – I promise someone will find you – us – around four o’clock.”

Benji studied him intently. Marty returned the stare, anxiously wondering if the kid could even do something to change the necessary upcoming events. Sure, Marty hadn’t been with Benji in the original timeline, but he didn’t think that just his presence would make Benji be found sooner – at least, not unless Marty did something stupid. If he stayed put in the shed and didn’t call attention to himself by making any noise or looking out a window, then he and Benji could just hang out until Doc or Jennifer showed up to rescue them.

Of course, that meant another two hours stuck in a ramshackle shed with a nagging headache, a throbbing knee, and a non-verbal, non-ambulatory kid. 

Benji had lowered his head, focusing on his book instead of on Marty. His clenched hand moved to the letter “O” and then the letter “K.”

_‘Okay.’_

Marty looked up from the book and saw Benji was again gazing at him. The boy’s face was briefly emotionless . . . and then he smiled disarmingly.

Marty smiled back, suddenly finding that the idea of being “stuck” with Benji didn’t bother him as much as it had earlier.

“So, even though we sound pretty good – well, _I_ think we sound pretty good – I don’t think we’re gonna stay together much longer. When The Pinheads really took off it was me, Pete, Paul, and Isaac, and I wasn’t even an original member, I replaced a guy who moved. But now Pete and Isaac are gone doing other things. Will and Shawn are great, but . . . I don’t know.” Marty popped a cookie into his mouth, then looked up at Benji. “You want another cookie?”

Marty had managed (in slow, measured movements) to drag the bag of woodchips over near Benji’s chair, guiding it through the obstacle course of the tools and lawn care items scattered around the shed. He'd then spread the tarp over it, designing a rudimentary beanbag chair, on which he was now reclining. He had the box of cookies in his lap and the container of wipes at his side, as whenever Marty fed Benji a cookie, he’d typically first clean his hands and later dab at Benji’s chin. 

The boy shook his head, declining a cookie, and then nodded at his book, which was propped against the chair near his feet. Marty sat up to grab the binder, opened it to the page with the alphabet, then waited patiently to see what Benji was going to spell.

The two had been “talking” for over an hour about their interests and hobbies, and had discovered that they both had an affinity for music. Granted, Benji’s involvement in music was purely as a listener, but he’d been transfixed by Marty’s stories about The Pinheads and his current job as a deejay at HVU. The seven-year-old had asked many questions with his book, sometimes using the pictures, but mostly spelling out words or partial phrases. At first Marty had stumbled over what Benji meant to say, but with repeated practice, the college student was now almost able to predict Benji’s words before the boy could even finish spelling, as well as understand a question or comment by one or two random words.

Marty read the letters aloud now as Benji pointed at each. “S – C – H – O – O – L. . . “ When Benji paused, Marty figured he was done. “School?” Benji nodded, then used a fist to make a pointing gesture at Marty. “My school? Like why am I still majoring in music if my band might break up?”

Benji dipped his head in the affirmative. Marty lowered the binder, then grabbed a cookie and munched on it reflectively.

“Well, there’s a lot more to music than just playing an instrument, or singing. When I first got really into music I was probably around your age; I think I was seven or eight. I got my first guitar when I was nine.” Marty closed the box of cookies, but kept it in his hands, studying the bright images and text as he spoke. “I can’t imagine that I’d ever not want to play guitar, but that doesn’t mean I have to be in a band. I could be a musician for hire, like at a wedding or a church festival or something. Or I could write music, or teach – “

Benji began to enthusiastically nod his head. Marty looked up with a crooked smile. “You think I should teach, huh? Like for kids your age, maybe?”

The blond head continued to nod, and that charismatic smile made another appearance.

Marty leaned back on his ersatz beanbag, chewing at his lip. “I could do something like that,” he said. “Right now I’m just concentrating on finishing school, but eventually I’m going to have to get a regular paying job, instead of getting paid for a gig here and – “

An insistent beeping from his watch interrupted Marty’s musings. Lifting his wrist, he saw that the alarm he’d set for 3:50 had triggered. Immensely thankful that he’d thought to set the alarm when he and Benji had started talking, Marty sat up straight. “Okay, Ben, time to clean up. We only have a little more time to wait, so we should get ourselves together.”

If Benji had any disagreement on this matter, he didn’t indicate it. The blond boy merely watched curiously as Marty gathered up the cookies, the wipes, the water bottle and the book, then crawled around to the back of the wheelchair. “I don’t exactly remember how everything was in here,” he said, as he replaced the items in the backpack, “and there’s definitely less cookies and water than there was, but I think your parents are going to be so happy to see you, they won’t even notice.”

When Marty moved back to the front of the chair, Benji was grunting softly and pointing at him. Marty gingerly shook his head. “I’m not even supposed to be here, kid. I can’t explain it, but it’s important that no one knows that I was here with you. I’ll get in trouble, and things will just get all mixed up. It’s better if I try to stay out of sight when they come to find you.” _Whoever ‘they’ ends up being._

Benji made a whining sound, and his lower lip protruded out, quivering slightly. Marty smiled ruefully at the boy. The college student had employed a similar technique when he’d been a young kid, but rarely recalled getting his way by sulking; in fact, he’d usually been reprimanded for attempting to do so. About the only person that Marty had been able to sway with a pout was his grandmother Sylvia, which had considerably irked his siblings.

“Put the lip away, Benji,” Marty said firmly. “You’re gonna be fine, and just because I’m planning on hiding out, that doesn’t mean I won’t ever see you again. After you’re reunited with your parents and all the drama is over, I’ll come over to see you, okay? It might not be for a day or two, but it’s not like I’m going to forget you. No way.”

Standing carefully, Marty gazed around the shed, wondering if he needed to move back the woodchip bag, which had been a bitch to move the first time. He figured the owners of the shed might not even notice that the bag was in a different spot, but the tarp lying on top of it would certainly catch the eye. Marty picked up the dark blue canvas material, meaning to fold it up in an untidy square and tuck it back where it had been . . . and then he paused mid-fold, staring pensively at the stained, wrinkled fabric.

* * *

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**3:44 P.M.**

After viewing the incredible sight of the time train taking flight and then vanishing into thin air (and a twin trail of fire), Jennifer had sat down in the passenger seat of her car. She’d left the door open so she could sit sideways and pet Einstein, who had whined a bit upon his master’s absence. It had taken her a few minutes to calm the sheepdog, who knew Jennifer but preferred Marty (who had also disappeared, so quickly after his brief visit). The dog had finally settled into a comfortable position at Jennifer’s feet when there was an explosive booming noise, coinciding with an electric pulse that raised goose pimples on Jennifer’s arms and made her hair feel too tight on her head. An instant later the time machine soared into view, and before Doc could even land the train onto the tracks outside the barn, Einstein was up, barking energetically and waving his tail so hard Jennifer could feel a breeze as the furry appendage flew back and forth near her face.

Jennifer was up a moment after Einstein, and woman and dog rushed into the barn as Doc glided the steaming train to a halt, wheels squealing against the rails. Once the stairs opened and lowered to the ground, Jennifer pushed herself up several steps, almost colliding with Emmett as he was attempting to exit the train. “Did you get there in time? What did you find out? What happened to Benji? Did you fix it?” Jennifer’s questions came out rapid-fire, even as she was backing up to allow Doc to descend the stairs. It wasn’t until Doc grasped the recessed part of the stairs and folded up the train’s entrance that Jennifer fell mute.

Emmett turned from closing the train and faced the young woman, in preparation of explaining the situation as he saw it, and was momentarily startled by what he saw. Jennifer’s face was white, her whole body trembling. Her mouth was working soundlessly, and she looked close to collapse.

Before, when the young couple had come to Emmett for help and Jennifer had professed her distress and fear over her cousin’s son, Doc had instantly understood the young woman’s emotional state and had felt it was justified and reasonable. No one knew what had happened to Benjamin, and there were tragic possibilities. As for Marty, Emmett knew exactly where the young man was. He’d watched through the BinoSpecs as Marty had climbed into the window of the cottage – the view had been partially obstructed, but he’d seen enough to assure him of Marty’s success, so he’d driven away soon thereafter. Of course he was concerned about Marty, as part of him always would be; he’d confessed such to his friend when they had been driving over to the Boyd house. But he was also confident that Marty would be able to accomplish the task that Emmett had assigned him, and that he’d be seeing his friend again in less than a half hour.

Yet all Jennifer knew was that Emmett had left for the past with her boyfriend (and probable future husband, if that aspect of the 2015 they had seen still held true), and had returned to the present without him.

Emmett reached out and grasped Jennifer’s shoulders, both to reassure and to keep the woman upright. “It’s all right, Jennifer – Marty’s fine! He stayed in the past, but only for a matter of hours. He’ll catch up with us.”

Jennifer’s trembling decreased some, but her pallor remained, worrying the scientist. “I – I don’t understand. How is he . . . do you have to go get him? How could you leave him behind?” she asked accusingly, bright pink splotches blossoming on her pale cheeks.

Doc shook his head quickly, exhaling in frustration. “I can explain more in the car. Just know that Marty staying behind was the best way to ensure Benjamin’s safety.”

“Then he’s all right?!” Jennifer’s head swam as the dread she felt for Marty competed for the palpable relief she felt about Benji. “Benji’s okay?”

“He is, and Marty is as well. But we need to go, I told Marty we’d be back to your cousin’s near four p.m., and we’re already running late, as it is now 3:48.” Emmett was checking the watch on his left wrist, which still held the current time. “Let me secure the barn, and then we can depart.”

Jennifer hesitated, meaning to ask another question, then thought better of it and hurried from the barn, back out to her car. Only when Doc met her at the vehicle, the woman looked up at him with a mournful expression. “I don’t have my keys! Marty drove us over here, and he must still have them!”

Instead of returning a similar somber look, Doc just waved off Jennifer’s concern. “We’ll take my car. It makes more sense, anyway, as it has a few attributes yours doesn’t.” Emmett walked around to the side of the barn to where he had parked his Plymouth, either a half hour earlier or three hours earlier, depending on which wristwatch he checked. Whistling shrilly, Emmett caught the attention of Einstein, who had been sniffing at the closed doors of the barn. Einstein came trotting over, and understanding that this time he was invited to go on a trip with his master, the sheepdog began to wiggle excitedly, barking in joy.

Doc again unlocked the car’s doors (which he had re-locked after returning from the Boyd house, not wanting to change the appearance of the vehicle from how it had originally been when he had parked it after dropping his family off at the mall). He then gestured Jennifer and Einstein inside. Einstein automatically jumped into the back, but stuck his doggy head between the two front passengers, panting gaily and occasionally nosing at Emmett.

“Benjamin’s fine,” Doc reiterated as he pulled his car out onto the road. “He’s actually just across the street, in the neighbor’s cottage, or I guess it’s a shed?” He glanced over at his passenger. “Marty said their name was Wilson or something similar?”

“Weston. Tad and Darlene Weston. But how could that be, how could he even get _in_ their shed?”

Again Doc made a dismissive gesture. “The door was unlatched, and when Benjamin went inside, the door was knocked shut – most probably by accident, when the boy turned his wheelchair around.” While Jennifer imagined that possibility, her eyes wide and mouth agape, Emmett went on. “Marty and I could not retrieve him or let anyone know of his whereabouts, as that would cause a paradox, so I sent Marty into the shed to keep Benjamin company until an appropriate time for us to rescue them – or him.” Emmett’s brow creased, and he frowned out the windshield at the traffic. “I’ll admit I’m still a little unsure on how to get Marty out of the shed. He was able to enter the building unseen by climbing through a window, but that was before your cousin came back outside and found that Benjamin was no longer in the back yard. Marty certainly can’t leave through the shed’s door when Benjamin is located – that would bring up too many unanswerable questions. And I’m not sure about him sneaking out the window without anyone noticing, as it’s likely there will be a lot of activity around your cousin’s house, even after Benjamin is rescued, especially since the police were called.”

“I could make some kind of diversion, or maybe we could even use Einstein for that.” Jennifer glanced back at the dog, who was now watching the passing landscape and vehicles. “Why did you bring him along anyway? Just so he wasn’t left home alone?”

Doc tossed a grin at Jennifer. “Not exactly. Einie’s our ticket to ‘finding’ Benjamin without revealing that we already know where he is.”

Jennifer sighed, rubbing at her temples, where she could feel a tension headache brewing. “All right. . . What does Marty always say? ‘You’re the doc, Doc.’”

They arrived at Stacy Boyd’s house thirteen minutes later. There were several cars in the driveway and a few parked on the street; Jennifer recognized her father’s car, and realized that her mother must have called him at work. Sitting directly in front of the house was a police cruiser, its lights still. Doc pulled his car up as close as he could get it among the variety of vehicles and the meandering people, surreptitiously glancing at the slave cottage-turned-shed across from the house. “You know what you’re going to say to your cousin?” he asked Jennifer softly.

Jennifer was still staring at the Westons’ shed. “I . . . think so. I just don’t want her or my mom to get the assumption that Marty was too busy to help look for Benji.”

Doc retrieved a small item from the glove compartment, placing it in a pocket of his paint-speckled overalls. “I don’t think they will – even if anyone would, Marty’s absence will be forgotten when Benjamin is found. And once we speak with Marty, I’m sure the three of us will come up with a plausible explanation for his unavailability.” Doc exited the vehicle. “Let’s go find your cousin, so we can get this rescue rolling.” He opened the back door, grabbed a leash off of the floorboard, then gestured at his sheepdog and patted his thigh. Einstein jumped from the car, then obediently let his master clip the leash onto his collar.

Jennifer found her mother first, who directed her into the house. Sitting at the kitchen table was Danny Parker, a young police officer, and Stacy and Leo Boyd. Stacy was holding tight to her husband’s hand, and looked as if she’d been crying for hours. _And she probably has_ , Jennifer thought, recalling how Stacy had been weeping quietly when the young woman and her mother had arrived earlier in the afternoon.

“Stacy?” Jennifer said, wincing a bit as her cousin looked up at her with an apathetic weariness. “Uh, when I talked to Marty about what had happened, he suggested something that might help.”

“Help?” Stacy echoed. “What could help? He’s been gone almost four hours.”

“Please, just listen to me,” Jennifer implored. “If what I’m suggesting doesn’t work, then we’re not any worse off. But if it could give us some idea, something to work with. . . “

Stacy’s husband stood, looking haughtily at Jennifer. “What do you think you could do, that no one else could? That the police can’t do?”

“Leo,” Danny said quietly, “let her talk.”

Jennifer sent a grateful look at her father before she continued. “It’s not really me – it’s Marty’s friend Emmett Brown. He has this dog that’s got like an amazing nose. He can track anything, just by smelling something that belongs to the person.” A tad bit of exaggeration, but it was necessary to the plan. “If you give him something of Benji’s to smell, he might be able to get a scent for the direction he went. . . You know, if he just wandered off.”

“Ma’am, we’ve done that already,” the police officer spoke up. “We used the police K-9, and he wasn’t able to track Benjamin past the driveway.”

Jennifer knew this; the police dog’s failure to track Benji had been her impetus to go to Marty and ask about a time travel solution. In fact, when Doc had elaborated on his plans for Einstein, Jennifer had been dubious. “How much better can he be at tracking a scent than a trained police dog?” she’d asked.

“Considering the police dog did not locate Benjamin, or even track further than the Boyds’ driveway, I believe there are too many competing smells in the shed. Marty’s scent, for one, would be enough to confuse the dog. It’s also possible that lawn care chemicals or gasoline could be present in the shed, and those could be distracting odors.” 

“Won’t those distract Einstein as well?”

“Maybe if he were searching for a new scent. But he’s known Marty most of his life; you’ve seen how Einie is crazy about him. When given the appropriate item to smell, I have no doubt Einie will be able to track Marty to the shed.” Emmett had smiled proudly, reaching back to ruffle his dog’s fur.

Jennifer had still felt uneasy. “He didn’t seem to notice us when we came to your house earlier. Marty had to stomp on the floor to get his attention.”

“Ah, well, Einstein was asleep – and I _had_ been painting for quite a while, so the whole house smelled of paint. Don’t worry, Jennifer. Even if Einstein doesn’t lead me to the shed on his own, some trickery on my part will make it seem he has picked up a scent. It will work.”

Emmett had seemed so positive that Jennifer had swallowed her doubts, and she now sent a pleading look at the individuals sitting at the table. “Even so, it can’t hurt to check again, can it?” Jennifer fixed her eyes on her cousin. “I want to help. Please let us do this.”

The people that gathered in the driveway (which was the assumed last location of Benji, according to the police dog), were Stacy and Leo Boyd, Jennifer and her parents, the police officer, and Emmett, accompanied by Einstein. Extended relatives and neighbors watched from the deck near the back door, where they could oversee the activity without being in the way. All eyes were centered on Einstein, who sat proper and quiet at Emmett’s feet, as if he knew he was going to be asked to do a Very Important job.

“Emmett Brown,” Doc said, holding his hand out to Stacy. “Jennifer spoke to you, told you I thought Einstein might be able to help locate your son’s scent?”

“Einstein?” Stacy said blankly.

“That’s my dog’s name.” Emmett nodded down. “Do you have something of Benjamin’s that Einstein can smell?”

Leo stepped forward, holding a small jacket. “He was wearing this earlier, but Stacy took it off when the day got warmer. We let the other dog smell this, and it tracked from the backyard to the driveway, but that was as far as it went.” He spoke in a monotone voice, and there was a defeated look in his eyes that showed he believed the scent stopped at the driveway because his son had been abducted.

Emmett nodded seriously, then dropped to his knees, holding the jacket in front of Einstein’s nose. The dog took a dutiful sniff, then looked up questioningly at his master. Stacy sighed deeply, choking back a sob.

“Oh, of course!” Doc suddenly said. “He can’t do much when he’s still tethered to me.” Emmett unclipped Einstein’s leash, bundling it up in one hand and shoving it into a pocket of his overalls – the same pocket that held the item he had previously taken from the glove compartment. Using both his body and Einstein’s to block the movement, Emmett slipped out the pair of BinoSpecs that Marty had worn earlier. Concealing the glasses in his grasp under Benjamin’s jacket, Doc briefly held the BinoSpecs close to Einstein’s nose.

Einstein’s reaction was immediate. After catching Marty’s scent off of the specs, the sheepdog yipped happily, pranced around in a circle, and then stopped abruptly. He perked his head up, as if he had heard a loud or familiar sound, and an instant later he took off, barking sharply. Einstein bounded across the street, going straight for the old servant’s cottage.

Doc allowed himself a quick grin of pride before dashing off after his dog.

Even burrowed under the tarp and at a far end of the shed (behind a partial wall that had once separated the cottage into three small rooms), Marty clearly heard Einstein barking, and recognized it at once. He wanted to call out to Benji, to let him know that rescue was imminent, but he was afraid of being heard by someone who wasn’t privy to his presence. Instead he curled up as much as his bad knee would allow, trying to make himself as small as possible, so that the tarp in the shadows looked more like it was covering a pile of river rocks or some old flower pots full of forgotten bulbs. He was sincerely hoping no one looked close enough to discover the bruised and aching college student hidden under the canvas.

Einstein’s barking came ever closer, and was soon accompanied by loud voices, all yelling over one another – the main word Marty heard repeated was Benji’s name. Then the front door of the shed was forced open, letting a bright shaft of light splash into the building . . . and pandemonium followed.

Screams of delight exploded into the shed, Benji began to cry, Einstein continued barking, an authoritative voice ( _Sounds like a cop,_ Marty thought) tried to maintain order, and there was activity and movement in and around the front of the shed as people bustled around Benji’s chair, which was eventually wheeled out the door (if the slightly diminishing voices were any indication). And then a blessedly welcome voice spoke, at a volume that was loud enough for anyone nearby to catch, but conceivably too low for the hearing-impaired sheepdog to hear.

“Einstein! What are you doing? Let’s go, boy!”

Jennifer’s voice was next, and her words sounded rehearsed, although Marty thought only he and his girlfriend’s parents would have noticed the odd, stilted quality. “Doctor Brown? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, it’s fine, Einie probably smelled a rodent or something. I’ll just grab him – go back the house, please, and tell them I’ll be out of here as soon as I get this rascal under control.”

Marty didn’t hear if Jennifer answered, as he was soon preoccupied by a warm, wriggling weight on top of him, constricting his chest. He struggled to pry the tarp off of his face. “Doc, get ‘im off,” he gasped. “ – can’t breathe – “

Emmett bent down to pull Einstein back, whispering at the same time. “Good hiding place, Marty – quick thinking.” The scientist looked toward the front door before turning back to his friend. “I think the easiest way for you to leave here unnoticed is back through the window, once the commotion outside has – “ Doc’s voice suddenly gained in volume. “Great Scott, Marty, what happened to you?!”

For a brief moment Marty wondered how Doc was aware of his possibly sprained knee, when most of the college student’s body was still under the tarp. Then Marty brought a hand up to his head, gingerly touching the goose egg. “Uh, yeah. Long story. Well, maybe not too long. . . I fell." He attempted a grin, but it was halfhearted. “Looks bad, huh? No mirrors in here.”

“’Bad’ is putting it lightly,” Doc said, then gazed around the cluttered shed in unease. “This is unfortunate. I don’t want you climbing around in here to go out the window when you’re injured. We might have to arrange another way to – “

“Doc Brown?” Emmett glanced back to see Jennifer cracking open the door, which had swung nearly shut, due to the crooked angle of the settling shed – it was easy to see now how Benjamin had completely latched the door from inside by bumping it with his chair. “Do you need any help with Einstein?” the young woman said anxiously, peering inside.

“Be right there, Jennifer!” Doc directed his gaze back to Marty. “When the hoopla here has died down – hopefully soon – one of us will be back to get you.” Grasping Einstein firmly by the collar, the older man guided him toward the door of the shed, where Jennifer waited. “Hold tight, Marty,” Doc called back quietly, then pulled the door securely shut. 

For maybe the first time in the long afternoon, natural events occurred that benefited Doc and Marty. Concerned that the hours-long entrapment had somehow injured or otherwise affected their disabled son, Stacy and Leo took Benji directly to the emergency room. Noel joined her parents and brother, as the Boyds were understandably resistant to being parted from either child. The police officer that had been at the house accompanied the family to the hospital, the neighbors and other family members who had helped search eventually went back to their homes, and soon the only persons to deal with were Jennifer’s parents. “I can run you over to the Browns’ so you can pick up your car,” Danny Parker offered, once his daughter had indicated that she’d left her car at Doc’s place.

Jennifer paused, not sure how to answer, knowing that it would be strange if she refused the ride or said that she’d prefer to go with Doctor Brown. She struggled to come up with a credible story that would get her parents to leave without her, and bemoaned the fact that she and Doc had not been able to speak privately and plan as such since Benji had been found.

Always a bit of a mind-reader, it was at that specific moment when Emmett came up behind Jennifer, apologized for interrupting, and said, “Marty has Jennifer’s car – it was almost out of gas, so he was going to fill it up before coming here. That’s why I brought Jennifer in my car. She guided me here, and that way I was able to get here quicker with Einie.”

Jennifer tried to not show her gratefulness for the scientist’s quick fabrication. Instead, she attempted to look chagrined, as if Emmett’s explanation was nothing but the bare facts.

Betty Parker shook her head, eyeing her daughter with mild annoyance. “I _told_ you that you didn’t have enough gas when we drove over here. And then you went driving around to find Marty, and drove your car out to Doctor Brown’s, when Marty has a perfectly good truck – I’m not surprised your tank was almost empty!”

Danny chimed in. “There is no reason to be driving on empty all the time. It’s not good for the car, and you could run out of gas in a bad neighborhood!”

“I’m sorry, okay, I had other things on my mind!” Jennifer shot back, unhappy that she was being reprimanded for something that hadn't actually happened. But there was no way that she could tell her parents the truth - that Marty had left his truck at Will's because he'd figured that he'd be back presently, counting on time travel to reduce his absence from rehearsal. She couldn't even mention that Marty had driven her car to Doc's, because then her parents would wonder how the young man had not noticed that the car's gas gauge was on "E" _(but apparently they have no problem believing that **I'm** forgetful and unobservant)._ Jennifer took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “Marty will be here soon to pick me up, so you guys can go, all right?”

After the young woman made several promises to always keep her gas tank at least three-quarters full, her parents seemed somewhat appeased. There were a few final thank-yous to both Emmett and Einstein, and a couple minutes later, Mr. Parker’s car had driven down the street, turned the corner, and disappeared from sight.

After one more hurried look around the area, Emmett went straight to his sedan, Einstein trailing behind him. “What are you doing?” Jennifer asked, rushing to keep up.

“Moving my car closer to the shed, so Marty can get into it. I still want to attempt to get him out of the shed without anyone mistakenly seeing; hopefully if you and Einstein stand on one side and I leave the door open to the other side, no one will witness him sneaking into the car. It’s quite fortunate that everyone left – I didn’t want to leave him in hiding any longer than necessary, in his condition.”

“Condition?” Jennifer echoed. “What condition? You told me he couldn’t sneak out the window, but I thought that was just because there were too many people around who might see him.” She felt a return of the overwhelming fear that she had experienced when Doc had returned from the past without her boyfriend. “What’s wrong with him?”

Emmett had started his car, and he now looked at the young woman irritably. “You’ll see soon enough. Either get in or walk over to the shed – we have to do this _now_.”

Angry but understanding the ramifications of anyone seeing Marty exit the shed, Jennifer rushed around to the passenger side and flopped into the seat, slamming the door a little harder than was necessary. Emmett quickly pulled his car away from the curb where it had been parked, then turned it around so he could pull up as close as possible to the cottage/shed. Once in front of the building, he angled his car carefully, lining up the rear passenger door with the front door of the shed. “Get out, please, but leave your door open,” he directed Jennifer, and after releasing Einstein from the car, Emmett left the rear passenger door wide open as well. As soon as Doc had positioned the young woman and the dog near the rear of the vehicle, Emmett took a deep breath, then unlatched and pushed open the door of the shed. He barely registered the squeaking sound of the door slowly swinging back to the semi-closed position.

“Marty?” Doc moved through the paraphernalia of the shed, swiftly approaching the person-shaped lump under the canvas tarp. “Marty, quickly, please.”

There was no movement or response to Emmett’s whispered words. “Marty?” the man repeated, anxiousness and impatience causing his voice to raise an octave. He bent to pull back the tarp, and stared down at what was uncovered, momentarily frozen.

Marty was partially curled up, one knee up to his chest and an arm under his head, which was tilted so that the bruised and swollen lump on his forehead was on full display. The young man appeared to be fast asleep – or out cold. 

Doc knelt down, his worry causing the acid in his stomach to roil. He’d spoken to his friend roughly fifteen minutes ago, and the student had seemed fully awake and alert. What if there was some chemical stored adjacent to where Marty had hidden, and the young man had succumbed to the fumes? What if his head injury had caused him to slip into unconsciousness? “Marty, wake up now!” He grasped Marty’s shoulder, shaking his friend firmly, aware of the minutes ticking by. _Not to mention Jennifer’s concern for her boyfriend could cause her to make the unwise decision to come in here to ‘help.'_

Emmett was wavering between carrying Marty out to the car or asking a neighbor to call 9-1-1 when the younger man finally began to stir. Blue eyes blinked, and then a slow awareness spread across Marty’s face. “Doc? Sorry. Musta fallen asleep.”

“It’s time to go.” Emmett pushed the rest of the tarp aside, then held out a hand. “We have a brief window of time to work with.”

Marty took the offered hand, rising – and then almost immediately pitched forward into Emmett’s hurried grasp. “Are you dizzy?” the scientist inquired, supporting the younger man.

“Ah, a little, but it’s my leg – or my knee, actually. I hurt it walking from the train. It’s really stiffened up.” 

Doc frowned in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself? Was it when you fell?”

“Doc, I thought you said we had to move it.”

“Oh, yes!” Emmett wrapped an arm around Marty’s waist, guiding him to the door. “Lean on me. The car is right outside the door, and Jennifer and Einie are waiting.” 

But before the two could exit the shed, Emmett needed to pull open the nearly-closed door. He briefly relaxed his hold on Marty so that he could reach the doorknob – and the college student promptly collapsed to the floor.

When Doc and Marty finally exited the shed, Jennifer hurried forward to assist her boyfriend into the back of the Plymouth. “Marty, my God, your head! Doctor Brown, what happened?”

Doc made a quick, spastic gesture. “Get in the car, Jennifer!” He whistled for Einstein, and the sheepdog leapt into the front seat, understanding that he was being granted a huge opportunity.

As Emmett closed the doors of the car, Marty accepted a relieved hug from Jennifer, weakly returning it. “Did everything work out?” he asked tiredly. “Is Benji okay?”

“He seemed fine, just overwhelmed. What about you, Marty? Are you all right?”

Marty leaned back in his seat with an exhausted sigh, fairly sure he’d be unable to express just how content he was to finally be in comfortable surroundings and among friends. Instead he just nodded, grasped Jennifer’s hand tightly, and closed his eyes.

Doc had been driving for about five minutes when Jennifer realized the route he was taking did not seem to lead back to his house. “Doctor Brown, where are you going?”

Emmett glanced into the rear view mirror. “The emergency room. I’m not sure yet how we’ll explain Marty’s injuries, but I want him checked for a concussion, and he may have sprained his knee. I know how that happened, but I don’t know exactly how he incurred the head wound. Marty stated that he fell at some point in the shed.”

“Can’t that work?” Jennifer said, looking nervously at her slumbering boyfriend. “Can’t we just say he fell?”

“Where? When? How?”

“Well, give me a second,” Jennifer grumbled. 

Devising an ‘explanation’ was actually easier than the two had thought it would be, and it worked twofold, explaining Marty’s absence during the search for Benji. As Jennifer’s parents had already been led to believe that Marty had Jennifer’s car, and had planned to stop at a gas station to fill the tank on the way to the Boyds’ house, Jennifer and Doc only needed to extend upon that fiction. They did so by taking advantage of Marty’s arbitrary bad luck, which usually coordinated with equally arbitrary clumsiness.

By the time Emmett pulled up in front of the hospital, Marty was awake again, and although he was somewhat muddled, he seemed to grasp the story the two had crafted. “We have to be sure to all say the same thing, Marty,” Jennifer instructed.

“I _know_ that,” he answered grouchily, “I’ve done this before, you know.”

Doc turned around to face the college students. “And I’ll need to leave, once Marty’s in an exam room – I’m supposed to be picking up my family at the mall in five minutes. Obviously I’ll be late, but Clara has come to anticipate that. In fact, she probably expected me to run late today, thinking I would have lost sense of time while I was painting. I don’t have my clocks up yet, after all.”

As Marty was unable to easily walk into the hospital, Emmett went ahead and procured a wheelchair from the ER lobby. He was pushing Marty through the hospital doors, Jennifer walking at his side, when they were suddenly met in the entryway by the Boyd family, who was leaving the ER. Emmett stopped Marty’s wheelchair, and Benji lifted his hand off of his chair’s power control, causing the motorized wheelchair to come to a halt. The two seated persons stared at each other, their faces slack with surprise – and then the blond boy grinned.

“Jenni – “ Stacy’s wide-eyed surprise matched her son’s, as she viewed the bruised lump on Marty’s forehead. “Marty? What on earth – “

Marty smiled faintly at Jennifer’s cousin. “Uh, yeah. I had sort of an accident at Doc’s.” He nodded his head back at his friend, who was still gripping the wheelchair's handles. “Jennifer and I went out there to ask if he could bring Einstein over to your place. . . Well, I was gonna come to your house to help look for Benji, too – thank God Einie found you, kiddo – but I had to put some gas in Jenn’s car first, ‘cause it was running on empty. So empty, that I couldn’t even get past the end of Doc’s driveway before it stalled.” Here Marty sent a false scowl at his girlfriend, who ducked her head in equally false embarrassment. “So I go into Doc’s barn to get a gas can, figure I can walk to the gas station and fill that up. . . Only I trip over a hose, grab a shelf to stop my fall, and knock the whole thing over on top of me. I was stuck there until Jennifer and Doc came back and found me.”

Benji’s grin grew, and soon the boy was laughing giddily. Leo looked at his son in disbelief. “Benjamin! We don’t laugh at other people’s misfortunes!“

Marty waved it off, knowing exactly why the boy was laughing, and having a hard time not breaking out into giggles himself. “Naw, it _was_ pretty ridiculous. I’m just glad Jennifer got tired of waiting for me to show and they came looking for me.” The college student's eyes glinted as he looked at Benji. "I guess we both went missing today."

“I think Benji should say sorry,” Noel piped up, smiling lovingly at Marty.

“That’s a good idea, honey,” Leo said. “Benji, tell Marty you’re sorry for laughing.”

Benji flattened out his grin, attempting for a contrite look. Next he raised his right fist to his chest, and rubbed it in a small circle. _‘Sorry.’_

Marty nodded back, then took his right hand, touched his fingers under his lips, and extended the hand out, palm up. _‘Thanks.’_

Then the Boyd family continued their way out to the parking lot, and Doc, Marty, and Jennifer proceeded into the hospital.

**_(NOT QUITE THE) END_ **

**_EPILOGUE WILL FOLLOW_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "book" that Benji uses is based in fact. Before electronic communication devices were available for non-verbal children, and even before there was a computer program that speech-language pathologists could use to create individual pages or pictures and print them out, the main availability of PCS (Picture Communication Symbols) was photocopies from a Boardmaker book. The Mayer-Johnson Boardmaker computer software program became available in 1989, but as this story took place in early 1989, it's assumed Benji's SLP didn't have access to it yet. So Benji's book is a cobbled-together mix of copied Boardmaker symbols and pages his parents and teachers designed by hand. 
> 
> I know many children with communication difficulties now use electronic devices, but students also still use communication and/or schedule books, as kids learn and achieve at different rates and from different mediums.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker wait at the hospital for their ride, and discuss random events from their pasts. The rest of the loose ends are tied up, and Marty makes a decision about his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic should be complete now. Thanks to everyone who expressed kudos! As an aside - if anyone got my reference/hint about the two new band members of the Pinheads (introduced in the first chapter), let me know your guess!
> 
> -ck

**Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989**

**7:27 P.M.**

Marty looked at the clock on the wall of the ER waiting room, then studied the watch on his wrist, finding it to be five minutes slow. He instinctively shook his wrist, then peered at his wristwatch again.

Jennifer chuckled softly. “Marty, that doesn’t really work with a digital watch.”

He made a face, marginally annoyed. “Force of habit. My first watch was an analog one; Mom got it for me when I was young, because I wasn’t very good at telling time, and she thought it would help me learn faster. Only thing was, I could tell time just fine – my problem was that I didn’t pay attention to it. And the watch didn’t help anyway, because it ran for crap and kept stopping on me.”

Jennifer wrapped an arm around her boyfriend and leaned against him, careful to not knock over the crutches that were propped at his side. “You never outgrew that, did you? Not paying attention to time?”

He shrugged, unoffended. “I’m not Doc." He glanced at the wall clock again. "But I’m sick of being here. I’m tired and hungry – it’s been an extra four hours for me since I ate lunch – and Benji was out of here in like a half hour, but I got stuck here for two!”

Jennifer patted his good knee consolingly. “Benji didn’t need to stay long because he was fine, and you’re the reason why. And of course you’d be here longer, since they had to look at your head and your knee.”

Marty scowled, but dipped his still-sore head in acknowledgement. “I just wish my dad would hurry up.”

“You just called home ten minutes ago. Give your dad a break. You know he drives five miles under the speed limit.”

The two were sitting side by side in the emergency room waiting area, biding their time until George McFly arrived. Jennifer had called her parents from the hospital as soon as she’d been able (knowing that Stacy Boyd would most likely tell her Uncle Danny that she’d run into Jennifer in the ER), but Marty had waited to call his parents until he was discharged, as he hadn’t wanted his father (or his worrywart mother) present while he was being examined. At the time, he'd reasoned that his parents wouldn't even notice his absence, as they had known he had plans with Jennifer.

But he'd also had to reluctantly admit that these versions of his parents had proved to be more hands-on with his welfare. Marty had a feeling that when they finally did see him, he would get fussed over by both his mother _and_ his father . . . for the young man had been diagnosed with a mild concussion (as Doc had feared). Luckily, the head injury hadn’t been serious enough to warrant a hospital stay.

Marty had been advised to rest, have someone nearby who could monitor him for the next 24 hours, and to return if he experienced any adverse symptoms. Because the wound had never bled and had not required stitches, it was not bandaged, and Jennifer couldn’t stop frowning or wincing every time she viewed it. Marty didn’t blame her – he’d finally seen the scraped and bruised lump himself in the mirror in the exam room, and the reflection he’d seen had made him feel nauseous. He’d hit his head before (too many times, and almost always connected to time travel), but it had usually been the back of his head, or someplace easily hidden by his hair. There was no hiding this, as the injury was apparent even when he tried to flatten down his bangs, and he was not anticipating hearing his mother’s reaction once she laid eyes on him.

Doc had also been right in his assumption of a sprained knee. That injury _had_ necessitated a noticeable dressing, and a cloth and Velcro brace was now on Marty’s bare knee; the ER staff had needed to cut his jeans shorter on that leg, as the tight denim had been unable to make it past the swollen joint. He’d been given instructions to keep off his leg as much as possible over the next week, and to use the crutches otherwise. It was also suggested he make a follow-up appointment with his regular doctor, but Marty was hoping to avoid that additional cost. He was still on his parents’ insurance as he was a full-time student, but he knew there were high deductibles for an ER visit, as he had found after he’d been in a [car accident in 1984](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639094) (although his memories of that were mainly from his pre-time travel timeline, when his dad had a low-paying job and his mother didn’t even have a job, so he imagined that his parents probably had a better health insurance policy now). But he didn’t want to be responsible for costing the family more money, when he already felt guilty about his folks footing the bill for his college tuition – even as reduced as it was from his deejay job and the one music scholarship he’d received.

“Hey.” Jennifer was jostling his shoulder; he jerked to look at her and saw she had drawn away, and was now staring at him anxiously. “Are you all right? You kind of zoned out there – I was calling your name and you weren’t answering.” She turned her head to look at the desk at the front of the room. “Do you need me to get the doctor?”

Jennifer was half-rising when Marty grabbed her wrist. “Jenn, I’m fine. I was just thinking. Sit down, okay?”

She sat reluctantly, still studying Marty’s face. “You must have been thinking pretty hard, then, because you were really out of it.”

“I was, I guess.” Marty looked out a nearby window at the darkening sky, then abruptly turned back to his girlfriend. “Jennifer, do you remember when the guys and I got in that car accident, back when I was a kid?”

Jennifer’s brow creased prettily. Marty personally thought she looked attractive all the time, but he was preferential to her studious look – there was just something sexy about it. The cliché hot librarian. He grinned slyly as he watched her think.

“I think I remember – it was after you – “ Jennifer broke off as she saw Marty’s grin. “Stop that! We’re in the hospital, for Pete’s sake!” She smacked his arm.

“Sorry.” His grin changed to an apologetic smile. “What were you saying?”

Jennifer sighed in exasperation, but a faint blush on her cheeks led Marty to believe she hadn’t completely opposed of his obvious ardor. “Okay. What I was going to say is I remember you all went to go see a movie, and the accident happened after. What movie was it. . ?”

“ _Footloose_ ,” Marty supplied.

“Oh, God, does that bring back memories,” she laughed. “That was what, five years ago? It seems like it was so much longer.”

“Yeah, it does seem like that. . . Doc explained that to me once. Five years is what, a quarter of our lives so far. But five years to him is like only a seventh of his lifetime – less, actually, if you figure in the time he lived in the past. So five years seems like forever ago to us, but a drop in the bucket to him. It’s all relative.”

“That makes sense,” Jennifer mused, and Marty had to look away, to prevent himself from again being aroused. “What else do you remember?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“You wound up in the ER that time, too – you weren’t wearing a seat belt, so you smacked your face on the seat in front of you, and you got a really bad nose bleed. Your parents were out of town, but Dave was home that weekend, so you called him. You thought if he came to get you at the hospital, you could convince him to not let your parents know what happened – which was really stupid, Marty. They would’ve known as soon as they saw you, your face was all bruised up. And even if you had made up some story, it would have fallen apart when the ER bill came, or when one of your friends’ parents talked to them – “

“Hey, I was fifteen. Don’t bust my chops, okay?” Marty huffed. Then he blinked. “Wait, I called Dave? Not Doc? I remember Doc being there.”

“He was – he gave your brother a ride, since your parents had the car."

Marty leaned back, pondering Jennifer’s account. It _sounded_ right – Dave had been a regular bus rider, taking it to get to work when he'd had his first job at Burger King. (Once Dave had gotten hired at the tax firm after college, he’d either borrowed George’s BMW or used a company car, suddenly feeling that public transportation was “below” him.) Marty's brother had finally purchased his own car when he got promoted at the firm, at age 23 – a full year after Marty had received his truck, at age 17. Dave still alleged that Marty, the youngest McFly, was spoiled, and Marty always countered that Dave, the first born, was the favored son. They often fought about it like kids when the family was together for holidays or special occasions, to the point that Linda had to literally put herself in the middle of the bickering brothers.

So Doc _had_ been present when Marty had been in the ER after the car accident with his bandmates, but Dave had been there too, apparently, so why couldn’t he remember that? He could vaguely remember Dave's job change. . . And did that mean the things he recalled the most about that particular ER visit, like breaking down in front of Doc, didn’t happen that way – or maybe didn’t happen at all?

 _And what did Jenn mean, Dave "was home that weekend"?_ Marty wondered, as his memories reverted again. _Dave was always home, he'd dropped out of HVCC by then._

 ** _No._** Dave had been at Hill Valley University, and he'd come home that weekend to "supervise" his youngest sibling, since Linda and her parents had been out of town touring a college that the high school senior had been considering.

Jennifer had her hand on his arm again. “Marty? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “Remembering all these changes is hard enough when I don’t have a concussion,” he said morosely.

"Well, maybe right now isn't the best time to think about it," Jennifer said. "Maybe you should wait until you're feeling better." When Marty just shook his head again, Jennifer smiled gently at his stubbornness. She was well aware of how Marty's first experience with time travel had afflicted the young man with double memories, and of how he still had struggles, even three years later. Early on, when Marty had been especially troubled by the alterations that only he could remember, it was Jennifer who'd suggested he write about his experiences . . . which had led to the song Marty and his bandmates had been practicing earlier in the day. The other Pinheads had been impressed by the piece when Marty had first presented it in '86, although all three of them had questioned the meaning behind the lyrics. After stumbling through a description of his parent's first date (which was McFly family lore), Marty had claimed he'd had a weird dream about the event and that he'd just had to write it down. As his bandmates hadn't had any reason to doubt him, they'd accepted his explanation.

Jennifer ran her hand along Marty's arm. "If you really want to know the specifics and differences of what happened, I think you should talk to Doc.”

“Maybe I will,” Marty said, “but you're probably right, I should wait – “

“Marty!” George McFly’s voice interrupted Marty’s, and the young couple looked up to see Marty’s father hurrying toward them. Marty sat up straighter in his chair, attempting to look better than he felt, but it was all for naught. George paused in front of his son, then bent down and gently pushed away the younger man’s bangs. “Oh, son. . .” he moaned.

“Dad, I’m fine,” Marty insisted. “They wouldn’t be letting me go home if I wasn’t.”

George stood slowly, observing Marty’s knee brace and the crutches. “Did they suggest admitting you?”

“No!” Marty said, a little too fast for George’s comfort. Jennifer stood as well, and she handed a bundle of papers to George. “Mr. McFly, these are his discharge and aftercare papers. He needs to be watched for 24 hours to make sure he doesn’t have any bad reactions from the concussion, and they want him to use the crutches for at least a week.”

“Which means I’ll be off the crutches just in time to go back to school,” Marty grumbled.

“Which is also probably good,” George pointed out, looking up from Marty's ER paperwork. “I don’t think it would be too easy getting around the quad and going to all the different buildings for your classes when you’re on crutches.”

“I don’t know,” Marty said, pushing himself up from the chair and hopping on one leg until he got the crutches under his arms. “I could always find some pretty girl to help me, maybe carry my books for me – Ow!”

Jennifer smiled sweetly as her boyfriend massaged the shoulder she’d just punched.

George went to get his car from the parking lot, wanting to drive it up to the ER doors so Marty wouldn’t have as far to walk. As they waited, Marty looked worriedly at Jennifer. “Do you want my dad to drop you at Doc’s place? Your car is still out there.” He dug awkwardly into his jeans pocket, resting one crutch against his hip. “Here’s your keys. I completely forgot I had them until I was trying to put my pants back on.” He looked sorrowfully at the fringes of the cut denim. He'd liked those jeans.

Jennifer accepted the keys, pocketing them. “Actually, I don’t think my car is still there,” she informed him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you – I called my parents when they took you to get your knee x-rayed, and I told my dad that you got hurt at Doc’s and never got any gas for my car. . . “ Marty nodded, smiling shrewdly. “Well, my dad said he was going to have Mom run him out there with a gas can so he could pick my car up.”

“But won’t he notice your gas isn’t on empty, and that it’s not stalled at the end of Doc’s driveway, like the story you guys made up?”

Jennifer’s crafty smile matched Marty’s. “Yeah, he would. But Doc said he’d take care of that, that he’d move my car out near the road, and that he’d siphon most of the gas out. It wasn’t locked, so he said he wouldn’t have any problem moving it."

"When did you guys figure that out?" Marty puzzled.

"In Doc's car on the way here. I think you were still asleep."

Marty gave a short laugh. “Leave it to Doc. Like I said, the guy thinks of everything. Except . . . we’ve got the car keys here. How will your dad get it home?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “He and my mom both have spares. Just because I used to lock my keys in the car when I first started driving – I haven’t done that since – “

“Since about two-thirty this afternoon,” Marty said with a grin.

“The car wasn’t locked!” Jennifer defended herself.

“Technicality.” This statement earned Marty another whack. “Hey, stop hitting me, or I’m gonna have to go back in the ER and get a sling, too!” he said, still grinning.

As Marty needed to stretch out on the back seat with his bad leg extended, Jennifer sat in the front with George. The older man was very interested in what had happened with Benji – how he had gotten trapped in the shed and the means of his rescue – so Jennifer spent the ride telling him the story. As Marty hadn’t technically been there (as far as his dad was concerned), he had no details to offer, and so he rested quietly in the back, lulled by Jennifer’s voice. He was almost asleep when a sudden thought occurred to him, and he sat upright in horror.

“My truck! My guitar! They’re still at Will’s place!”

George looked over his shoulder at his distressed son. “No they aren’t. They should be home when we get there.” When Marty didn’t answer, just dropping his mouth open slightly, George went on. “Right after you called from the hospital, the phone rang again, not long after I’d hung up. I thought maybe it was you calling back, so I picked it up, and it was Will’s father. They had been worried about you, wondering why you hadn’t come back to practice. When I told him what had happened, he said Will would pack your equipment up in your truck, and that they’d run it back to our house.”

“Oh,” Marty said softly. “Wow. That’s . . . great.” He was relieved to know his possessions would be safe, but he still felt empty, depressed. _It’s because I won’t be able to practice anymore during break,_ he realized. _Won't be able to drive over to Will’s with a concussion. Even if I got a ride there, how can I stand up to jam when I’m on crutches?_

Directly on the heels of that thought, an inner voice spoke up, a relatively new one that had no patience for his self-pity.

_And what about Benji? He might never be able to drive a car, or ever stand on his own. You’ll be out of commission for what, a week or so? Get over yourself._

The voice nagged at Marty for the rest of the ride. It disappeared briefly when they pulled up at Jennifer’s house (parking behind her Cavalier, freshly retrieved from Doc’s) – it was hard for his still addled brain to concentrate on much more than Jennifer’s passionate kiss, delivered through the back window. George had chuckled lightly at the manifestation of young love, but he hadn’t commented. As Marty had settled back into a reclining position in the rear seat, he’d been vaguely pleased by George’s discretion. _No way we could have kissed like that in front of my old man the way he was Before,_ Marty had thought. _That guy would either be blushing three kinds of red, or he’d be lecturing me about how Jennifer was trouble._ No, this George McFly was truly fond of Jennifer, and Marty was sure the man would be supportive when he told him that he was planning on proposing to Jenn next Valentine's Day. That was almost a year away, but Marty had already been pricing rings.

By the time they’d arrived at home, the inner voice had returned. It hung out in the back of Marty's head, pecking at his consciousness, while he inspected his returned truck and guitar for any nicks or scratches. It snickered in the background as his mother mollycoddled him, chiding him for being clumsy and thanking God for his relative wholeness in basically the same breath. The aggravating voice was an uninvited guest to dinner, causing Marty to bolt his late supper, eating only the bare minimum and leaving the table still hungry. Maybe he’d hobble back out to the kitchen for a snack later. . . But first, he needed to find something in his room.

Marty’s room wasn’t as cluttered as it had been before he’d started living in the dorms at HVU, but it was still a mess of books, magazines, clean and dirty clothes, food wrappers, and music paraphernalia – a little more so than usual, as he’d been home on break. Even though he knew what he was looking for and had a reasonable idea of where it was located, the fact that he needed to hop awkwardly around his room (he'd abandoned his crutches on the floor near the doorway) meant that it still took him close to ten minutes before he located his copy of Hill Valley University’s course catalog. He’d already filled out and turned in a preliminary class schedule for the first semester of his senior year, but he knew it wasn’t set in stone; if he met with his academic adviser after break, he was sure he could adapt it. He'd have to, considering he was thinking of changing his major. He hoped the shift from music theory to music education wouldn't prolong his college graduation too far past what he had previously expected. Maybe if he took summer courses this year and the next, he could graduate in May of '91- that would only be a year late.

His quarry now in hand, Marty dropped down on his bed, resting his bad knee. Flipping to the dog-eared and often consulted Music section of his course catalog, Marty ran his finger down the choices until he found what he was looking for. Then he grabbed a pen that was lying on his headboard and circled the course entry, underlining the title for good measure.

**MUSI 1112: INTRODUCTION TO ELEMENTARY MUSIC EDUCATION**

**Term offered: Fall, Spring**

**Course Length: 60 minutes**

**Course Schedule: TR**

**Course Description: An orientation to the teaching profession as a career choice. Includes an in-the-field approach to developing music experiences for school children. Open to music majors only.**

**Prerequisite: Musi 1026**

Marty tossed the pen back on his headboard shelf, then lay back on his bed, the course catalog resting on his chest. He smiled to himself.

The inner voice, apparently satisfied, had finally shut up.

**_END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story (specifically the third chapter "Found" and the Epilogue) hints at Marty and Jennifer's future professions - at least the ones I have picked for them. In my story [ **"A Date to Misremember,"**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348431) Marty is an elementary school music teacher, and Jennifer is an assistant librarian.


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